


The Brooklyn Boys

by house_of_lantis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Frottage, Graphic Violence, M/M, Recovery, Romance, Sexytimes, Torture, modern crime family AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers, community activist and advocate, asks the new head of the Barnes organization, James “Bucky” Barnes, to help out the working girls under Barnes’s protection. Little did either of them know that this meeting would be the impetus of a beautiful friendship…and quite a lot more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Modern day crime family AU. Originally written as part of Tumblr drabbles, but it turned out to be an actual fic. Edited and reposted as a WIP story. Note that POV switches between Steve and Bucky, randomly.

**PART 1: The Boys of the Neighborhood**

 

**Café Manhattan**

It was no secret that Brooklyn was under the protection of the Barnes organization. Since the 1940s, when George Barnes, the senior, finally put his foot down, and with his best friends and loyal compatriots, Aloysius Dugan and Jonny Juniper, ran the bad element out of Brooklyn, the new Barnes organization took over the city – and many of the old timers said that it was for the better.

Seventy-five years later and the Barnes family still ran Brooklyn. Over the years, the city saw a lot of flourishing changes, saw a profitable renewal in family owned businesses and neighborhoods getting cleaned up of drugs and gangs. That wasn’t to say that all crime had fled the city; the Barnes organization just had better control over it and kept the “civilians” safe from the rougher trades.

Steve Rogers grew up in Brooklyn, on the poor side, but he and his ma never suffered in poverty. The city took care of her own and the Rogers were considered upstanding members of the neighborhood. Mrs. Sarah Rogers was respected in their community, known for her tireless work as head ER nurse at Brooklyn General; her weekends spent working at women’s shelters and soup kitchens, Mrs. Rogers was much loved and admired. When she passed, the whole city came to her wake. For the first year after her passing, Steve never went hungry. It seemed that everyone in the neighborhood was always giving him food. He paid them back by running errands for his elderly neighbors; by walking their daughters home at night; by cleaning homes or sweeping out their stores. One by one, people in the neighborhood started coming to Steve to ask him to talk to so-and-so, to help them out on small problems. He realized that this was what his ma would do; how she always had food on their table when she was broke after paying the rent and the bills.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when Steve picked up where Sarah Rogers left off and soon developed a reputation as a community advocate and activist. If there was a fight, a protest, a rally, or a community meeting, then Steve Rogers was normally in the thick of it. He’d spent his younger years getting into back alley brawls with bullies and assholes; as he got older, he’d discovered that he had the power of persuasion and he could rally his neighbors to work together to drive the bullies and assholes out of his city.

So when one of the working girls asked Steve to meet for coffee, he knew that it wasn’t because of his company.

“Not saying that you’re not a real delight, Rogers, but this is business and we need help,” Darcy said, swirling her sixth spoonful of sugar into her espresso cup.

“McCallister takes 40% of your cut? Seems kind of high if you ask me.”

“Yep,” she said, raising the cup to her lips and taking a slow sip. “This week, he decided that he wasn’t going to give me my full cut and then he sweetened the deal by making me give him a blow job.”

“He forced you?”

“It’s collateral damage, Rogers,” she said, wearily.

Steve frowned. “He sounds like a real class act. Why are you working for him?”

“Dude, I have to pay my tuition. NYU isn’t cheap and my scholarship doesn’t pay for my Manhattan lifestyle,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Usually, I clear about $3000 cash, in a good week. Tax free.”

Steve swallowed, blinking slightly. He wondered what it was that she did that – he stopped that train of thought, feeling his cheeks flush. She giggled softly, looking at him knowingly.

“But that’s no reason for him to treat you like—like…um…”

“A prostitute?” She said, quirking her lips. “Listen, Rogers, I have one more year of grad school left. I don’t have any student debt and I have a nice little nest egg tucked away for when I stop working this trade. I went into this with both of my eyes wide opened, so I’m not some sob story coming to you to rescue me out of the life. I have my exit plan, but McCallister is fucking with it by not giving me my share of the money.”

He smiled at her, completely charmed by her boldness. “Then how can I help, Ms. Lewis?”

***

**Oliver’s Restaurant**

Sean McCallister was not a reasonable man.

In fact, there was nothing remarkable about him except for the fact that he was a bully and an asshole. Steve had plenty of experience dealing with guys like him – guys who got off on beating up on someone who couldn’t fight back – and if Steve had learned anything growing up in Brooklyn, it was that there was more than one way to get a bully off his feet.

He walked around the corner of the family-styled restaurant to the back alley entrance. It was the known favorite place of James Barnes, new head of the Barnes family. There wasn’t that much known about James Barnes, preferring to keep his name and his place in the city under the radar.

There were a lot of stories about him – how he joined the Army out of high school and had two tours in Iraq and one tour in Somalia as a sniper, how he worked for his father, George Junior, as the family enforcer, how he worked his way up the ranks to prove himself worthy to take over the Barnes family – a lot of it, Steve was certain, an embellished legend of a man to promote fear and respect.

But the people of Brooklyn told another story about James Barnes – how he helped family owned businesses thrive when traditional banks turned them down, how he kept up peaceful relations with the other neighborhoods, how he got rid of the drug dealers and gangs, how he was helping to revive certain parts of the neighborhood that no one cared about – this was a man who was known to be honorable and respectful.

Steve hoped that he would meet the man and not the legend.

There was a line of sleek black cars parked along the narrow alley, a half dozen men dressed in dark suits hanging out by the staff entrance. Steve walked cautiously towards them, keeping his hands loose by his sides.

“Hey, boys,” he called, keeping his voice friendly but serious. “Evening, gents.”

They turned and stared at him, looking him up and down, taking his measure. They looked at his too long blond hair, his jeans and his loose blue cardigan, and the black eye and bruised jaw. Steve wondered if he should’ve tried to dress up a little for this meeting.

“What do you want?”

“I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Barnes for a few minutes,” he said, meeting the eyes of the men.

“What’s your business with Mr. Barnes?”

“It’s…of a sensitive matter. I’d rather speak to Mr. Barnes directly.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

Steve bristled at being called a ‘kid,’ but clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. “Steve Rogers.”

One of the men motioned the other to go inside the restaurant; the rest of them just stared at Steve, none of them bothering with any chit chat. It should’ve been unnerving, but Steve didn’t felt otherwise intimidated or threatened. Clearly, Barnes’s men didn’t throw their weight around for no reason. They resumed a low, inconsequential chatter between them, and Steve kept a polite distance, tapping his feet against the ground.

The door creaked opened and the man motioned for Steve to follow him.

“Thanks, gents,” he said, nodding to the men and following the other inside.

The restaurant kitchen was in full swing, noisy and boisterous, music and the clang of pots and pans, the fragrant smell of delicious meats making Steve’s mouth water. The man didn’t take him to the main dining room, but to a private room off to the side. Six men were in the room, one of them sitting at the table.

Steve looked at the men in the room – all of them well groomed, wearing business suits – but it was the man sitting at the table who caught Steve’s attention. He had thick brown hair and pretty eyes, and wore a half-smile on his handsome face.

“Boss, this is Rogers,” the man said, waving his hand to Steve.

“Thanks, Colin,” the man at the table said, blue-gray eyes staring at Steve in equal amounts of curiosity and amusement. “I’m Barnes. How can I help you, Mr. Rogers?”

He wasn’t expecting for Barnes to be so young; he didn’t look that much older than Steve. Maybe the men had gotten his request to meet with Barnes wrong.

“I don’t mean no insult, but I, um, I was expecting to meet with Mr. James Barnes, the elder.”

The men laughed at Steve, not maliciously, more like friendly teasing.

“We all told you that your baby face wasn’t going to be an asset, Bucky,” one of the men said, looking at Barnes.

“Maybe you’ll think about growing that beard now,” another said, teasingly. He stroked his own full beard proudly, winking at Barnes.

“Nah, he likes his pretty face all smooth shaven.”

“He’s James Barnes, kid—“

“Don’t call me kid,” Steve said, frowning slightly. He took a deep breath and looked at Barnes. “I apologize, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t mean no insult.”

“None taken,” Bucky said, amicably. “So what’s your business with me?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked at the other men in the room. “It’s, um, kind of a sensitive nature. I don’t know if you wanted me to speak about it with everyone listening in.”

The men chuckled lightly and Bucky smiled at him. Steve noted that the corners of his eyes wrinkled, giving the illusion that Bucky Barnes wasn’t just the head of a major crime family. Steve wondered how many people saw the smile and underestimated him.

“Mr. Rogers, if you’re here seeking me out, then you know my business and what we do. You can be rest assured that my men are the sort who keep their mouths shut.”

Steve nodded, taking him for his word. “I’m here on behalf of the girls who work for Sean McCallister. It seems that he’s not giving them their fair share and he’s been…taking advantage of their favors without their full consent.”

The teasing air in the room changed, Steve could feel it turn to ice. He started sweating behind his neck and he forced himself to keep still, waiting for Bucky to say something.

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. “I see.”

“One of the girls – she’s a real nice girl, a good girl, just working her way through grad school – she said that it started getting bad a couple of weeks ago. McCallister is supposed to take his 40% cut, but he’s not been paying out the girls.”

“I’m curious about your interest in the welfare of the girls. Are you a client?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I’m just a friend. It’s not fair that the girls go out and work, take all the risk, and then for McCallister to not give them their cut. They work hard, put in their honest work, and they should get the compensation that they earned.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, sitting back in the booth as he regarded Steve. “So if I were to get involved in Mr. McCallister’s business…and let’s say, hypothetically, that I were to find someone a little more honorable to pick up the trade, what guarantee do I have that you’d give the girls their cut?”

“Me? Why would I give the girls—ohhh. I’m not here looking to replace him, Mr. Barnes. I’m not looking for a job at all.”

“Then what do you want?”

Steve sighed, impatiently. “I’m just bringing this problem to you. McCallister works in the Barnes organization. I thought you might like to know that there’s something shady going on under your roof if you care to do something about it.”

“Hey, now, Rogers, let’s keep this civil,” one of the men said, warningly.

“Are you sweet on one of the girls? The one who told you about this?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Just trying to look out for the community.”

“Trying to look out for the community, huh?” Bucky cocked his head, looking at Steve’s face. “That black eye and the bruise on your cheek, McCallister give that to you?”

“I had him on the ropes…but it’s not a fair fight when it’s three against one,” he said, jutting out his chin stubbornly, waiting for them to mock him.

None of them did.

“No, that ain’t a fair fight at all,” Bucky said, nodding slowly. He looked at the man with the full beard and then turned his gaze to Steve. “Well, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve wanted to say something more, to get a promise from Bucky that he’d do something to fix this, but he knew when he was being dismissed. He took a deep breath and then nodded.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Barnes.”

Steve followed one of the men out of the private dining area and out the back door past the kitchens. He nodded to the same men who were standing outside, shoving his hands into his pockets, and walking quickly down the street. He felt like kind of a naïve heel, walking into the restaurant and telling a man like Bucky Barnes how to run his business. He didn’t think they’d do anything; and Steve had to figure out a way to help out Darcy and the other girls.

***

“The balls on that kid, huh?” Tim Dugan said, grinning widely at Bucky.

Bucky smiled, raising his eyebrow. “That  _kid_   was 100% serious, though.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “McCallister’s been a Grade A pain in my ass and it’s time I did something about him.”

Gabe Jones chuckled, leaning back in the booth. “Man, so  _that’s_ Steve Rogers. I’ve heard so much about that dude. From what everyone says, I was expected some big, tall dude. He’s probably all of 90 pounds wet.”

That caught Bucky’s attention. “Oh yeah? What do people say about him?”

“How do you not know, boss? Rogers is a fucking legend around the neighborhood. He’s the kind of guy who helps your grandma across the street or walks your sister home at night. And if anyone catcalls her or says anything rude, he’ll try and fight a guy.” Gabe laughed, shaking his head. “Word on the street is that he’s not that good of a fighter, but he stands up for himself.”

“He doesn’t run?” Bucky said, frowning slightly.

“Never heard of Steve Rogers running from a fight in his whole life.”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. “He’s got a death wish or something.” He sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “Get McCallister in here. I want to hear from his own mouth what the fuck he’s been doing. If he’s been keeping all the money and not giving the girls their cut, that means that we’re not getting our cut either. So what the fuck is he hoarding all that money for? Makes a man awfully suspicious.”

Tim chuckled, throaty and mean. “Dernier and I will go pick him up right now, boss.”

“Gabe, I want to know  _everything_ about Steve Rogers,” Bucky said, smiling fondly.

The boys didn’t miss the look of interest on Bucky’s face; it wasn’t like he was bothering to hide it either.

*****

 

**PART 2: Getting to Know You**

 

**Sunset Park HQ**

Growing up, Bucky always knew that he was going to take over the family business when his dad retired. George Junior wasn’t always a good or kind man, but he was a fair one – he loved his family, he went to Sunday mass, he kept the boys in line, he kept the neighborhoods safe, and he always remembered his friends and his enemies. Bucky had no illusions just how his dad and his lieutenants kept order in Brooklyn; and he knew that one day, when he was older, he would be expected to continue the Barnes legacy.

Bucky grew up in a household of strong-willed women. His ma – God rest her soul – Winifred, was the true matriarch of Brooklyn. If George Junior ruled the city, then Winnie loved it. She was no gentle soul, though, and she was often just as fierce as her husband – if not more. Bucky adored his ma and God forbid anyone who ever spoke of her wrongly.

He was the oldest of three rambunctious sisters and Bucky was a bit of an overbearing older brother, protective of their well-being and demanding they wear the Barnes name with respect. When they were all in their teens, his sisters didn’t give Bucky a lot of trouble, but they certainly weren’t going to just let Bucky run roughshod over them.

_“Bucky! You’re not dad! Quit acting like him!”_

_Bucky smirked. “If dad knew what you girls were getting up to half the time, he’d come down a lot harder on you.”_

And if anyone wronged one of his sisters, then the East River made the perfect watery grave. Only a handful of people knew that Bucky had dispatched two of Rebecca’s former boyfriends into the river – one, who had slapped her; the other, who had pushed her into sex before she was ready. Bucky was eighteen when he made his first kill. George Junior was none-too-pleased and Bucky was punished harshly for taking matters into his own hands without conferring with George Junior about it first, but his dad was proud of Bucky for doing right by his sister. When he graduated high school, his dad told him to enlist in the Army.

_“It’ll make you into a man, Buck.”_

_Bucky nodded, respectfully. “I already am a man, sir.”_

_“It’ll make you into a _better_  kind of man,” George Junior said, staring at him with steely blue eyes. “You do me and this country proud, Buck, and when you finish your service, you’ll come work for the family. I’m going to make sure that you know the ins and outs of the business before I retire. Your ma has been hankering at me to move her to somewhere warm.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

Bucky was honorably discharged from the Army as a Sergeant and his chest covered with medals for his distinguished service. When he returned to Brooklyn, there was a new confidence in his walk, replacing his cocksure swagger, and a calm, deep look in his eyes. He was a young man who had fought in wars, fought against experienced enemy forces, and he had survived. He preferred not to talk about his service and spent his first year back home letting his ma and his sisters indulge him and pamper him. And despite the look of pride in George Junior’s eyes, Bucky knew that it was time for him to get to work.

“McCallister, I’m tired of you lying to me,” Bucky said, frowning at the bleeding man tied to the chair. “I know you’ve been skimming money from the family, but I don’t know why.”

McCallister was in pretty bad shape. Between Tim’s fists and Bucky’s knife work, even with taking a med check break now and then, Bucky didn’t think he was going to get much more out of the man.

“Are you trying to take the trade out to another family? Because that’s the only thing I can think of,” he said, pulling a metal chair across the cement floor and setting it near McCallister.

The man wheezed, drooling blood out of his mouth.

“I think he’s done for, Buck,” Tim said, pulling off his bloody leather gloves.

“Damn it, Sean, I don’t want to fucking kill you over this,” Bucky said, staring at McCallister’s bruised and bloody face. “Tell me the truth and I’ll have the boys drop you off at the hospital. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

McCallister coughed, his right eye peering up at him. “Jer—Jersey.”

Bucky leaned closer. “Jersey?” He took a deep breath, an ugly expression on his face. He sat back in the chair and looked up at Tim.

Tim sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Oh Sean…”

“Fuck. He’s gone traitor to those HYDRA assholes.”

“Buc—Bucky, please,” McCallister moaned, turning his head to look up at him.

Bucky got out of the chair and walked to the table to pick up his handgun. He checked the clip and pulled back on the slide to chamber the round. He stepped closer to McCallister and put a bullet in his forehead and then one in his chest. He watched as the body jerked, the smell of blood and gun oil in his nose. He policed his brass, tucking them into his pocket, and sighed heavily.

“Have the boys take him to the chop shop and then dump him,” Bucky said, flicking his eyes at Tim.

“Sure,” he said, nodding slowly. “What about McCallister’s girls?”

“I want you, personally, Tim, to talk to every girl. Find out who in McCallister’s shop that the girls like working with and trust. Get rid of the rest who aren’t fit for duty. And then I want you to talk to our lawyers and set up independent contracts with all the girls who still want to stay on the payroll. We’ll take 20% cut and provide them with security. If any of the girls have trouble, tell them to call you directly and you take care of it.”

“I’ll take care of them like they were my own sisters, Buck.” He frowned, eyes like steel.  “What about McCallister’s  _affiliation_   with HYDRA?”

Bucky sneered. “Leave that to me. I’ll deal with Alexander Pierce myself.”

***

**The Food Center of Brooklyn**

**200 Fourth Avenue**

Gabe’s report on Steven Grant Rogers was extremely thorough, if not completely biased in Gabe’s admiration of the man. Bucky couldn’t blame him; from all accounts, Rogers  _was_   a good man and worthy of respect.

Not to mention that Bucky found Rogers attractive.

Normally, Bucky wouldn’t let himself be so distracted by a pretty face, and had more than enough trusted and vetted lovers to keep him satisfied. But there was something different about Rogers. He presented a possibility of something  _more_ and Bucky would be a fool if he didn’t at least try to see just what that was. It wasn’t in his nature to deny himself and he knew that the curiosity would drive him a little nuts.

From what his people told him, Steve Rogers was a little shit, and despite his small stature, he didn’t take any crap from anybody and was extremely good about dishing it out when he was cornered. Bucky was glad that they weren’t working at cross purposes in the city; that would’ve been unfortunate for both of them. Rogers might not approve of all the types of activities that the Barnes organization controlled in Brooklyn, but he turned a blind eye, for the good of the neighborhood, and didn’t rat anyone out.

“He takes care of business,” Gabe said, smiling. “He’s very old school about things. He tries to be reasonable first and if that doesn’t work, he’s not afraid of shooting off his mouth and getting the whole neighborhood up in arms about it.”

Bucky grinned. “He’s going to be a real troublemaker, ain’t he?”

“Your favorite kind, boss,” Gabe said, chuckling softly. He checked his phone and flicked his eyes up at Bucky. “Morita says that Rogers made it to the soup kitchen. ETA is about five minutes.”

Bucky could admit that he was a little nervous. It had been two weeks since Rogers walked into Oliver’s looking adorable with his too long blond hair and his hipster clothes and stubborn jut of his chin. It was obvious that Rogers was a proud little shit with his “had him on the ropes” and “not a fair fight with three against one.”  

 _Shit,_  Bucky wasn’t immune to that combination.

“We’re here,” Gabe said, opening the door and getting out of the SUV first. Bucky followed, buttoning his suit jacket and looking around the neighborhood street. It was quiet in the late afternoon, a neat line of men, women, and young kids waiting to go inside the soup kitchen for a meal. Bucky nodded to them and leaned close to Gabe’s ear.

“Have the cars moved to the side streets, will ya? I don’t want to create a commotion. I’m going to see if there’s a back way in, I don’t want to cut in line in front of these good people.”

“Got it, boss.” He looked at his phone. “Morita says that he saw Rogers out back.

He trusted Gabe to make it happen as Bucky walked down the sidewalk to the corner, turning right to walk around the building for the nearest alley. He heard the cars move smoothly past him, Gabe’s light steps behind him, as they all turned into the alley. Jim Morita was leaning against the side of his car, nodding his chin towards the doors. Bucky saw that the loading doors were open, three or four people wearing aprons carrying in boxes of fresh vegetables.

Bucky grinned, seeing Rogers walk out of the building, picking up a crate of milk. It probably weighed more than him but Rogers pulled it off the delivery truck and walked it into the building.

 _Stubborn and proud,_ Bucky thought, raising his eyebrows.

He watched, nodding to the people walking in and out of the building, carrying in crates and boxes of food. Bucky reached into the truck and picked up a crate of lettuce, walking inside the building to the kitchens. He set the crate down on the counter near the other vegetables and looked around for Rogers.

One of the volunteers stopped and looked Bucky over, frowning slightly. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Steve Rogers if he’ll spare me a few minutes.”

The man gave Bucky a long look and then called over his shoulder, “Rogers! You got company!”

“What kind of company, Sam?” Rogers hollered back, walking into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “I’m trying to get the bread into the ovens—ohh! Mr. Barnes…I…what are you doing here, sir?”

“It’s Bucky,” he said, smiling at Steve’s reddening face. “Do you have a minute? Maybe we could step outside?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he said, looking a little perplexed as he led Bucky back outside, taking a few steps away from the delivery truck. “Thank you for helping out my friend and all the girls. Darcy told me that they’re all independent contractors now and you’re giving them protection when they go out on their, um, dates.”

“Is your friend doing better now? Did she say if all the girls received the money that was owed to them?”

Steve grinned. “Yes, thank you for that. Whatever you said to McCallister, it worked. All the girls got their money.” He paused, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “What did happen to McCallister anyway? None of the girls knew.”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. “Do you really want to know?”

He watched as Steve’s eyes widened slightly and Bucky’s gaze dropped down to see him nervously lick his plump bottom lip with the tip of his pink tongue.

Steve flinched a little and then looked away, running his hand through his hair. “Is he…did you…”

The question hung in the air between them and Bucky held his breath, waiting to see which way this would go. There was no question that Steve Rogers knew the realities of Bucky’s world. The Barnes name was respected in Brooklyn, but it was also feared. And the name Bucky Barnes wasn’t spoken lightly either. There was a lot of blood on the Barnes name, but that blood also paved the way for his city to prosper.

Bucky wondered if Steve would ask; Bucky wondered if he’d even tell Steve the truth. He might; he didn’t think Steve Rogers would want to hear any pretty lies, no matter how hard it was to swallow the truth.

“Okay, well…” Steve sighed, turning to look up at Bucky again. His pretty blue eyes stared at Bucky with frank appraisal. There wasn’t any judgment in his gaze; there wasn’t any fear either. “It’s your business, sir, I don’t have any right to pry. I just wanted to say thank you for helping my friend.”

“You’re welcome. And if your friend or any of the other girls have any other problems, I want to know about it right away. I may be a lot of things, but I’d like to think that I’m a fair man, and you were right, they work hard and they should get their fair share,” Bucky said, looking at him and biting back a smile.

Rogers had flour rubbed across the bridge of his nose and along his cheek. It made him look younger than his 28-years and jerked hard on Bucky’s protective instincts. Jerked hard on some other instincts, too, but he didn’t think it was proper to let Rogers know about that. Bucky was glad to see that his black eye looked a little better and the bruise on his jaw was fading to an ugly yellowish green, but definitely on its way to healing.

Steve nodded, looking up at him. “Is there, um, something I can do for you? I mean, do you want me to, uh, pay you back somehow?”

Bucky stepped closer, his voice low. “How would you pay me back, Steve?”

He grinned when Steve’s face flushed a deep red, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. Bucky took a step back, easing off to give Steve his space, and pushed his hands into his pockets, cocking his head, smiling.

“I don’t have any money?” Steve said, flustered. “I mean, do you…do you want money?”

Bucky couldn’t help it, he laughed, shaking his head. “Man, you really don’t know when someone is hitting on you, do you?”

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to say to that?  _‘How would you pay me back?’_   Is that a threat or an offer? Shesh!” Steve said, eyes bright with irritation. He flung his hands up into the air, glaring up at Bucky. “Maybe you ought to practice your come ons so that they don’t sound like you’re going to ditch them in the East River if someone tells you no!”

“Shhh! For Christ’s sake, Rogers!” Bucky said, laughing loudly. He could hear Gabe and Morita laughing at them and Bucky turned, giving his lieutenants the finger.

Steve groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Oh, man, I’m sorry.”

“So is that a no then?”

He lowered his hands and stared at Bucky like he was crazy. “Pardon?”

“So if I was to ask you out to dinner, and you said no, I promise not to ditch your body in the river,” Bucky said, softly. “But I’d be real honored if you said yes.”

Steve looked at him, his cheeks still pink. He didn’t look all that upset and his lips were starting to curl a little into a smile. “Needs a little work. I wouldn’t have added in the part about the death threat, but yeah, that was better.”

“Rogers, cut me a break, huh?”

“Just dinner,” Steve said, shrewdly, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

“Just dinner.”

Bucky couldn’t help but to give Steve his best shit eating smile.

Steve rolled his eyes, but nodded, smiling slightly. “All right, Bucky, then yes. Just dinner.”

“Rogers! Quit flirting and get back to work! The bread’s not going to bake itself!”

“All right, I’m coming!” Steve shouted back and then turned to grin at Bucky. “I, uh, got to go.”

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out his business card. He handed it to Steve with a small smile. “Call me when you’re finished here.”

Steve took it, looked at it briefly, and then tucked it into his back pocket. “It won’t be until late though, like around nine or ten.”

“Then we’ll have drinks and then I’ll drive you home and I’ll take you out to dinner on a night when you’re not working 12-hours in a soup kitchen.”

Steve grinned, shyly, and nodded. “All right.” He motioned to the door with his head. “I better go in, still lots to prep.”

“Of course. Thank you for seeing me.”

He watched as Steve rolled his eyes, but he nodded and gave Bucky a little wave with his hand.

“I mean it, call me!”

“All right, already!” Steve hollered over his shoulder, the back of his neck turning red again.

Bucky watched as Steve hurried into the building and he turned to the cars to see Gabe opening the back door for him. Morita winked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

“Shut up, don’t say anything,” he said, warningly, to Gabe.

Gabe gave him his best innocent look. “Nice job, boss.” 

 

***

 

**PART 3: You Gotta Accentuate the Positive**

 

**Sunset Park HQ**

Three days out of the week, Bucky and his lieutenants held official office hours in his well-fortified, renovated warehouse space on First Avenue in the Sunset Park neighborhood of Brooklyn. Every Wednesday, all the heads of the various divisions met to talk about neighborhood business, reviewed accounts and ran numbers, redressed wrongs or slights, resolved territory skirmishes, or prepared for war.

 

Bucky had started quietly buying up the industrial properties in Sunset Park with every intention of renovating and rebuilding the neighborhood to its former glory days. With an 80% stake in the neighborhood, Bucky planned to bring new life to the area. During his second tour in Iraq, he had spent his entire leave in London and had fallen in love with the look and feel of Carnaby Street. He wanted to bring some of that same appeal to Sunset Park, a mixture of high end retail stores and restaurants blending seamlessly with the eccentric flare of Chelsea Market. He had gotten the Mayor to invest $100 million in renovating the old Brooklyn Army Terminal for bringing in manufacturing and warehouse space, combining both commercial trade and tourism into one area.

 

Sunset Park was the jewel in the crown for Bucky; he loved the old timey feel of the historic neighborhood and was especially fond of the old terminal, which was once part of New York’s Port of Embarkation for the US Army and was the largest military supply base in the US through World War II. Like a lot of old industrial areas, it was rezoned for residential development, but Sunset Park still had great commercial potential.

 

Even before Bucky took over the reins of the Barnes organization, he had dreamed of revitalizing the diverse community and saw a place where the working class could pay reasonable rents and even walk to work in the blossoming manufacturing sector. After decades of neglect, Sunset Park had a lot of structural issues – horrible potholes, old sewer lines, unsafe pedestrian walkways, low air quality, abandoned buildings, complete lack of green landscaping – but Bucky knew that making a significant investment, while painful in the present, would pay off a hundredfold in the future.

 

He leaned back in his leather chair and scrolled through the Yelp app on his phone, looking up the top ten upscale restaurants in Brooklyn. He was pleased to see that a lot of Brooklyn restaurants were going upscale, proving that the neighborhood was friendly to “tourists” and giving Manhattan some competition.

 

“What do you think? Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare or Dover?”

 

“Masa has the best Japanese food,” Pinky Pinkerton chimed in, distractedly, his fingers moving deftly over the calculator as keen eyes scanned down the spreadsheet on his computer screen.

 

“There’s always The River Café,” Morita said, walking into the office and plunking down on one of the leather couches. “I like Blue Ribbon, if you’re taking someone out.”

 

Bucky scrolled through the reviews on the restaurants that they mentioned, frowning slightly, not finding one that he really liked.

 

“Wait, why are we talking about upscale restaurants?” Gabe asked, looking up from his laptop at Bucky.

 

“Need to find a nice spot for my dinner with Rogers.”

 

Tim laughed, a surprised but pleased look on his face. “You got a date with Steve Rogers.”

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You got a problem with that, Dum Dum?”

 

“Of course not, I’m just surprised that you pulled it off.”

 

Morita laughed, looking over at Gabe. “Barely. I swear, I thought Rogers was going to punch Bucky in the nose at one point.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Rogers said that you made a death threat in the middle of asking him out on a date,” Morita pointed out, smirking.

 

“I fucking hate you, Jim,” Bucky grumbled, his face turning red as the men chuckled around him. He tossed his phone on his desk and stared up at the ceiling. “So where the fuck in this city do I take someone who is completely unimpressed by me.”

 

“Forget about anywhere fancy,” Tim said, kindly. “That’s not going to impress a Brooklyn boy like Rogers.”

 

Bucky stared at him. “So you’re saying that if I take that little punk somewhere with white linen and candles, he’s going to spit in my face and tell me to take a hike. Because why? Because I’m showing off. But then, if I take him to some crummy hole-in-the-wall place, he’s going to think, what, that I don’t respect him enough to take him somewhere with white linen on the tables?”

 

“Probably,” Pinkerton said, shrugging nonchalantly. He frowned, looking up at the others. “Wait, who the hell is Steve Rogers and why is the boss dating him?”

 

Everyone laughed and Bucky sighed, spinning lightly on his chair.

 

“Exactly. This is why it’s just easier to have Romanoff vet all the people I fuck,” he complained, making a face.

 

Tim snorted. “Boss, are you telling me that you have our best intel enforcer getting you laid?”

 

Bucky made a face. “It’s not like that.”

 

Tim stared at him, eyebrows sky high on his forehead.

 

“Don’t judge me, Dum Dum,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up.

 

“I’m judging you so hard right now.”

 

Bucky glared at Tim, but he sighed and rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes.

 

“You’re just wasting his time if all you’re going to do is pull one of your usual tricks on him,” Gabe said, earnestly. “He’s not going to fall for it, Bucky.”

 

Bucky stared at his lieutenants. “Why are we even having this discussion? It’s just a fucking date, not like I’m going to ask him to get married. I just want a restaurant reservation somewhere in Brooklyn.”

 

“Depends on what you want out of the date, right? You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

 

Bucky smirked. “I doubt that Steve Rogers is the kind of guy who puts out before the first course.” His face eased into a wistful smile. “Probably not even after dessert.”

 

Tim laughed, uproariously. “Probably not even after the tenth date!”

 

“Fuck,” Bucky grumbled, making a face.

 

“But getting him into your bed is still a goal, no reason to deny it between us men. But you also want to know him, figure out who he is, which requires talking and listening,” Morita said, giving Bucky the eye. “So why would you want to take him to some fancy place and make it into a production?”

 

“Maybe I want him to think that he’s worth it.”

 

Gabe snorted and made a rude noise. “Fuck that noise, man, you put a monetary value on Rogers and he’s going to split out on you. The dude’s got pride so thick you’d need a jackhammer to crack it.”

 

Morita grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I got an idea, but I’m going to need all the boys in on this, boss.”

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “What for?”

 

“To put together the perfect date,” he said, seriously. “All you need to do is get Rogers to confirm date and time, leave the rest up to us.”

 

Bucky stared at him for a long moment and then sighed, rolling his eyes. If he couldn’t trust his closest lieutenants for something like this, then there was no one he could trust at all.

 

“Fuck it. Fine, do whatever it is that you need to do. I’ll talk to Steve and see if he’s available Saturday night. That enough time for you?”

 

“Yeah, boss, that’s more than enough,” Morita said, chuckling.

 

***

 

**483 Clinton Avenue, Apartment #2**

**Clinton Hill Neighborhood**

Bucky stepped out from the back of the SUV to see Steve leaning against the low black iron fence in front of his apartment building. Bucky could appreciate the unusual architecture of the building – a dark orange brown stone building with an oval façade, black metal fire escape on the side.

 

“Interesting building,” Bucky murmured, smiling at Steve. “It suits you.”

 

Steve laughed. “The rent is affordable and I’m in love with the oval front room. That’s me, on the second floor. I have a fireplace.”

 

Bucky grinned, giving his full attention on Steve, looking him up and down appreciatively.

 

He was dressed in brown and green plaid shirt, khaki pants with the bottoms rolled up slightly, and an oversized 1940s style brown leather bomber jacket. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and he gave a nervous grin, pushing up his black framed glasses with his long, slender fingers.

 

Bucky was not immune to him at all.

 

Steve pushed off from the wall and walked towards him. “Thanks for picking me up.”

 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, stepping aside so Steve could get into the back.

 

“All right. Bucky. So…” Steve said, tilting his chin to look up at him, a little smirk forming on the edges of his mouth.

 

“Get in the car, Rogers.”

 

Bucky smiled as he watched as Steve grabbed the top edge of the roof, clambering gracelessly into the back and scooting across the leather seat.

 

Bucky resisted the urge to curl his hands around Steve’s narrow hips, to slide his palms over Steve’s pert little ass. He bit his bottom lip and got into the back, pulling the door closed.

 

“So you didn’t tell me where we were going? Am I dressed okay?” Steve said, pulling on his seatbelt and glancing over at Bucky, his eyes taking in Bucky’s smart navy blue suit and white dress shirt.

 

“You look fine,” he said, smiling reassuringly at Steve. “And as for dinner…well, it’s a surprise.”

 

Steve’s mouth pursed slightly. “I’m not really into surprises, just so you know.”

 

“We’re going to our office in Sunset Park,” Bucky said, looking into the rearview mirror to see Junior Juniper smirking back at him. He frowned meaningfully at the younger man. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure where to take you.”

 

Steve chuckled. “For dinner? In all of New York City, you couldn’t figure out where to eat?”

 

Bucky looked at him, cocking his head. “Was there somewhere you wanted to go? I can always get us reservations if you—“

 

“No, no, it’s fine, I don’t want to put you out or anything,” Steve said, quickly. “Honestly, I’m kind of relieved. I thought you might try to take me to some fancy place where I have to figure out which fork to use.”

 

“A man with simple tastes, huh?” He said, feeling a little relieved himself.

 

“I’m a Brooklyn boy,” he said, giving Bucky a genuine smile this time. “Not much else I need.”

 

And that pushed a lot of Bucky’s buttons. For all the extravagance and money and power that came with being the head of the Barnes organization, Bucky was also a man of simple tastes. He could appreciate that Steve Rogers wasn’t there because he wanted something Bucky could buy him.

 

It made Bucky want to be generous to Steve; give him things that he didn’t need, simply because Bucky wanted to give. He wondered if Steve would ever realize the kind of power he could have over Bucky; how would Steve exploit it if he knew?

 

“I like seeing the changes to this area,” Steve murmured, looking out the window to see the way that parts of the Sunset Park neighborhood were being revitalized, not pushing out the people who already lived there but giving them a chance to grow with the neighborhood’s new prosperity. “I’ve read about how the city poured in a lot of money to bring the neighborhood back.”

 

“I didn’t grow up here, but I always thought it was a sad loss to see this part of the city deteriorate,” Bucky said, a small tinge of pride in his tone.

 

“I’ve heard about your contribution to this city, too,” he said, looking at Bucky. “Stuff that the papers don’t write about.”

 

“Neighborhood grapevine,” Bucky said, chuckling softly. “Well, if it’s good stuff, then okay, I accept.”

 

Steve let out a soft laugh, leaning back into the seat. “All right.”

 

The SUV stopped in front of Bucky’s HQ building and they both got out of the car. Junior flashed Bucky a thumb’s up for luck and Bucky scowled at him, closing his door. He looked at Steve to see him looking around at the surrounding buildings.

 

“The architecture here is gorgeous,” Steve commented, his hands sliding into the pockets of his bomber jacket. “It’ll be a shame to see these buildings torn down. It’s like…these buildings stood the test of time; the old builders defying modern convention.”

 

Bucky remembered from Gabe’s file on Steve that he was an artist.

 

“I feel the same,” he said, grinning. “The reason why my projects take time is because I want to restore the external facades. The insides need to be gutted and brought up to modern times – wiring and plumbing and the supports – but the outside, I’m not going to knock them down, not if I can help it.”

 

“It’d be cheaper and faster if you knocked them down, started from scratch.”

 

“Yeah, but then this place wouldn’t be Sunset Park anymore.”

 

Steve blinked up at him, his soft lips curving slightly. “That’s…that’s really awesome, Bucky.”

 

“Come on, let’s go up, see what the boys have got cooking for us,” Bucky said, waving his hand towards the doors.

 

***

 

Bucky was amazed at what the boys put together on the roof of their building. Morita smiled at them as Bucky led Steve through the roof access door. They had strung up dozens of white Christmas lights across the west corner of the building.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers. My name is Morita and I’m your host this fine evening. Welcome to Chez Howling Commandos,” Morita gave a little bow and guided them towards the corner where they had set up a table with white linens and two chairs.

 

“Wow,” Steve said, chuckling delightedly. “This is great!”

 

“Percival will be your server tonight,” Morita said, winking at Bucky.

 

Bucky raised his eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. He had forgotten that Pinky Pinkerton’s first name was Percival.

 

“Good evening, gents.”

 

Pinkerton stood by their table, pulling a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, filling their glasses.

 

“May I take your jacket, Mr. Rogers?”

 

“Sure. Thanks, Mr. Morita,” Steve said, shouldering out of his jacket and handing it to him.

 

“Mr. Barnes?”

 

Bucky grinned, playing along. “I’ll keep mine, thanks.”

 

“Fine, sir. Mr. Rogers, you’ll want to sit here,” Morita said, patting the chair on the right. “Best view of Manhattan from here, sir.”

 

Bucky approved, nodding for Steve to take his seat. He undid his suit jacket button and sat down as well.

 

“Thanks.” Steve sat down, grinning brightly, his eyes looking everywhere. His mouth opened, gazing out at the skyline to Manhattan in the distance. “Wow, the island looks extra lit up from here.”

 

“Tonight, we have the best slabs of steaks found in the whole state of New York,” Pinkerton told them, smiling. “Our chef this evening is the esteemed Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan.”

 

Bucky and Steve turned to see Tim waving his hand at them, standing by the large propane grill.

 

“And your entertainment tonight is provided by Gabriel,” Morita told them, motioning to Gabe. He wheeled over an old-fashioned record player closer towards.

 

“For your listening pleasure,” Gabe said, winking at Bucky.

 

Bucky winked back, completely delighted by everything that the boys put together.

 

“Where on earth did you find that thing?” Steve said, leaning across the table to stare at the record player.

 

“They belonged to Bucky’s ma,” Gabe said, grinning. “Back in the day.”

 

He held up the old album cover and pulled out the record with a flourish, setting it gently on the player. Bucky watched as Steve leaned even closer as Gabe turned on the player and giving the record a little spin to get it going. He set the needle down gently and adjusted the speed of the spinner.

 

Bucky laughed at the familiar opening strains of “ _Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive_ ” came out of the speaker. “This brings back a lot of memories. I must’ve heard this song play every day at the house when ma was alive.”

 

“Johnny Mercer,” Steve murmured, taking a sip of his champagne. Bucky was pleased that Steve knew the song and the artist. “My ma loved his music, too. I played his record over and over again for her in her hospital room.”

 

“How old were you when she passed?”

 

“Seventeen,” Steve said, softly. “Eleven years…feels like it was yesterday sometimes.”

 

Bucky nodded; he felt the weight of Winifred Barnes’s loss, too.

 

“You didn’t go into the foster system?”

 

Steve shook his head. “Emancipated minor status. We didn’t have a lot of money, but my ma made sure that I’d never get lost in the system.” He met Bucky’s gaze. “Your dad helped with that, I remember, got the paperwork done with his lawyers before ma passed on.”

 

“Must’ve been tough to be alone at that age.”

 

“Ma was loved by the community. They took care of me when she wasn’t there.”

 

His blue eyes met Bucky’s and he gave a small, shy grin. “All of this is so awesome, Bucky. I’m…I’m really impressed. Thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me, Steve. Besides, this is all the boys’ idea, they’re the ones who put this together so I can’t take any of the credit,” he said, smiling.

 

To be honest, he was the one who was impressed. Morita said that he would take care of them and Bucky was immensely pleased that they had thought of the kind of details that Steve Rogers would appreciate. Bucky turned to look at his lieutenants, giving them all a grateful nod; they smiled at him in return, keeping their distance to give them privacy.

 

“How is it that we both grew up in Brooklyn and never met until now?”

 

Steve chuckled, his fingers playing with the silverware. “I don’t know how to answer that without being insulting.”

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You mean because I run a crime family and you’re a grassroots community advocate.” He watched as Steve’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in surprise. Bucky took a drink of his champagne and grinned. “Really, if you think about it, we’re not working at cross purposes. We want the same things for our community; we just have different ways of going about our business.”

 

“I…” he laughed, nervously, glancing up at Bucky. “I don’t know what to say to that but…okay. You know what, okay, I’ll give you that.”

 

“Well, I thought we worked together pretty well to help out your friend.”

 

Steve chuckled, a little nervously. “Bucky…I’m fairly certain that I got one of your men into a lot of hot water for bringing that to your attention. But I can’t regret asking for your help, not when it helped Darcy and the other ladies.”

 

“Well, put your mind at ease. You telling me about what was going on in my organization wasn’t the cause of anyone getting into hot water. I just knew it was time to take action.” Bucky leaned his forearms on the table and met Steve’s eyes. “And through your work in the community, if you hear of anything else needing my attention, I hope you’ll bring it to me.”

 

He watched as a slight furrow developed between Steve’s eyebrows, his lips pressed tight together.

 

“I’m not a rat, Bucky. Yeah, I hear things, you know, people confide in me to help them. There’s a lot of things that I can do without having to bring you into it. It’s…it’s not always like that and I don’t like ratting out my neighbors.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “So if this is why you brought me here – if this is the reason why you set this all up, then I want you to know right up front that I’m not your man.”

 

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, taking in the steel in Steve’s voice, the way that his back straightened as he faced Bucky head on, fearless and stubborn to the core.

 

_Well, damn, how was he going to let Steve Rogers go now?_

 

“If I thought for one minute that you’d be the kind of man to rat out your neighbor for your own profit, I never would’ve given you another moment of my time,” Bucky said, firmly. “Steve, I don’t need you to be a rat. I have informers all throughout the city to tell me what’s really going on in the community. What I need is someone to tell me the truth, things that my informers may not get to hear, like what was happening with your friend. I don’t want you to be a rat. I want you to do what you’ve been doing, being a strong community advocate.”

 

“Yeah?” Steve said, looking at Bucky like he was trying to figure out if he was speaking the truth.

 

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Our community needs people like you.”

 

Steve cracked a small smile. “And people like you.”

 

Bucky leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Yes, and people like me.”

 

“Dinner is served!” Tim said, bringing over two large plates with huge cuts of perfectly grilled steaks, a generous side of what looked like sweet potato mash, and grilled Brussel sprouts. “How’s it look, boys?”

 

Steve stared at his plate and then looked up at Tim. “You are a chef among mere mortal cooks, Timothy. Thank you.”

 

Bucky stared at the Brussel sprouts and he turned a side eye glance up at Tim. “Really, Dum Dum? Brussel sprouts? Come on!”

 

“Eat your veggies, boss, it’ll help you live a long, healthy life,” Tim said, heartily. “Is there anything else that you need, sirs?”

 

Bucky looked up at the boys and winked at them. “I’m pretty sure I can handle the rest, you boys clear out. Go on, get out of here.”

 

“Thanks, guys, this was so terrific of you,” Steve said, genuine pleasure in his voice.

 

“I’ll see you boys in the morning,” Bucky said, getting to his feet and shaking their hands. “Thanks for getting all of this done for us tonight, I won’t forget it.”

 

“Night, boss,” Pinkerton said, waving to the ice box. “There’s beer and wine in there! And there’s dessert warming under the hood.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes at them. “All right, I can handle it from here. Get going.”

 

“Good luck, boss,” Gabe called, waving to him.

 

“Good night, Mr. Rogers!” Morita said, the rest of the boys saying their goodbyes.

 

Steve laughed and waved to them, watching as they walked through the access door, giving them privacy.

 

Bucky turned back and walked towards the table, grinning at Steve. “Finally. Just the two of us now.”

 

“I’m surprised they’d leave you alone with me,” Steve said, cutting into his steak.

 

“Let me finish my dinner before you think about putting a knife in me,” Bucky said, jokingly. “Tim doesn’t grill hardly enough. He makes the best steaks in town.”

 

He watched as Steve took a hearty bite, moaning in pleasure as he closed his eyes, a faint trail of steak juice running down his chin. He chewed slowly, running his thumb up his chin and sucking on it.

 

Bucky gripped his fork and knife and dropped his eyes to his own steak.

 

_For God’s sake, that little shit was a tease!_

 

“Good?” He said, wryly.

 

Steve nodded, enthusiastically. “So good.”

 

Bucky cut into his steak, a perfect medium rare, and took a bite. He chewed carefully and looked across the table to see Steve watching him, smiling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montage of Steve and Bucky dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm. Later sections will see a major warning/tag change to the story. It goes dark - off screen torture, angst, hurt/comfort, PTSD, recovery. 
> 
> But before the dark storm, there is laughter and silliness and, yes, some hot sex. 
> 
> Warnings will be noted as darker sections are posted. Just wanted to warn readers now if you're getting invested in this story. I promise that there is a happy Stucky ending (and no, Bucky does NOT hurt Steve in any way in this story). Let's just say that HYDRA makes their presence known.

**PART 4: Whirlwind**

 

Steve enjoyed going out with Bucky.

 

They had agreed to take things slow, get to know each other, spend time together, and be present in their new friendship and romance. Their first dinner pretty much cemented Bucky in the “has potential” column in Steve’s limited dating book and Steve wanted to take his new relationship with Bucky seriously, but also keep it fun.

 

But he needed Bucky to understand that Steven Grant Rogers didn’t fuck after the first date.

 

“Dum Dum said not after the tenth date either,” Bucky said, chuckling at the offended look on Steve’s face.

 

“I’m not just putting you off to try to lure you in or anything like that,” Steve said, looking at Bucky to gauge his reaction. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who likes playing those kinds of games.”

 

Bucky gave a wry grin. “I’m not.”

 

“But I’m not the kind of person who sleeps around,” he said, firmly. “I’ve only had two relationships my entire adult life.”

 

Bucky raised his eyebrow, slow smirk forming on his lips. “Come on, Steve, you’re gorgeous. You totally look…uh, never mind.”

 

Steve glared at him, feeling his face heat up. “I totally look what?”

 

He watched as Bucky gave a little shrug. “Nothing.”

 

“I look like a twink that every top would want to bend over?”

 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Bucky protested, laughing softly. “But you have to agree that you fit a certain profile.”

 

Steve sighed and shook his head, pushing his black framed glasses up his nose. “I’m not into the club scene, Bucky. Besides, I was born with two left feet and I couldn’t dance my way out of a paper bag to save my life.”

 

Bucky ran his hand over Steve’s hair and smiled. “I don’t care, Steve, you’re with me now. That’s all I want.”

 

“You know, you’re getting better with your come ons,” he said, giving Bucky his best shit eating grin.

 

***

 

So Steve really enjoyed going out with Bucky. And that was what they did. He knew that Bucky liked him a lot, and Steve liked Bucky more each day that they spent together. He was the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and he trusted Bucky not to take advantage of him.

 

Being Brooklyn boys, they weren’t all that interested in the fancy stuff. Bucky would get them cheap tickets, foregoing VIP box seats, to see the New York Mets play the Los Angeles Dodgers – both of them bemoaning the fact that the Dodgers were sold to LA.

 

“I don’t care that it was like sixty years ago, it was bullshit then and it’s bullshit now,” Steve grumbled, shoving pieces of a soft pretzel in his mouth, eyes fierce on the field watching each play.

 

Bucky chuckled. “You weren’t even born then.”

 

“Don’t matter, it’s the principle of the thing.” He got to his feet and waved his fist in the air. “What the hell was that? That’s a freaking error! Is anyone calling this game or what?”

 

Steve took Bucky to his favorite museums all over the city. He was partial to the Brooklyn Museum, but he loved exploring the Met, the Guggenheim, the Natural History Museum, and The Cloisters. Bucky took him to small art galleries in Brooklyn, asking for Steve’s help in buying artwork for his office.

 

“I’m a freelance graphic designer, not a real artist,” Steve protested, a little intimidated by the price tags on the artwork that Bucky was willing to spend.

 

“Sounds like you know art, though,” Bucky murmured, following him slowly around the gallery. “You know more than I do, in any case.”

 

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t mean much.”

 

“Come on, Rogers, I trust your judgment. You have something that’s priceless in the art world.”

 

“Oh? What’s that?”

 

“You have good taste,” Bucky said, pressing a quick kiss on Steve’s neck before darting away, hands clasped behind him as he sauntered off, faking interest in a godawful painting on the other side of the gallery.

 

Steve smiled to himself and blushed, biting his upper lip with his teeth. He turned and watched Bucky, smiling and winking at Steve from across the room.

 

***

 

Most times, they walked through the city, Bucky’s arm slung casually around Steve’s shoulder, listening to Steve’s observations on the changing neighborhoods. They both loved the cool autumn nights, looking up at the colorful lights that lit up the Brooklyn skies.

 

“Look, that’s one of my signs,” Steve said, pointing to the sign over the Korean grocery store. “The Kims are a nice family. Their daughter is the first to go to college, you know. Every time I go in there, it’s all they can talk about.”

 

Bucky looked at it, his head cocked. “You do good work, Steve.”

 

Steve leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder and smiled, letting out a contented sigh. “Thanks, Buck. You know, I’m never going to get rich making signs or doing menu designs or flyers, but that was never my goal anyhow. I just like being able to walk through my neighborhood and seeing my work around. It’s kind of like leaving my mark on the city, you know, in some small way.”

 

Bucky kissed the side of Steve’s head and gave him a hug. “I know what you mean. Come on, buy me an ice cream.”

 

It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that when his freelance business picked up that Bucky had something to do with it. Ironically, the contracts kept him fully employed but not so busy that he’d miss a date with Bucky.

 

“Buck, I’m not being ungrateful, but you don’t have to keep throwing work my way. I get by on my own,” Steve said, stealing a shrimp eggroll from Bucky’s plate.

 

“But you don’t have to, is all I’m saying. I like helping you,” he said, putting another eggroll on Steve’s plate without prompting. “Besides, it’s not all about you. It’s about helping the community, too. Your fees are the most reasonable for these family-owned places and I know they like supporting local artists.”

 

***

 

Not all of their dates ended with a kiss on Steve’s doorstep.

 

The one time Bucky took Steve to Coney Island, Steve gorged himself on hotdogs and cotton candy and pretzels and salt water taffy.

 

“How is it that you can pack away that much food?”

 

Steve smirked. “High metabolism. I have to eat like 4000 calories a day to maintain my weight.”

 

He regretted it after riding the Cyclone, bent over next to the trash can and puking up his guts as Bucky rubbed circles on his back. He handed over his beer so that Steve could rinse out his mouth.

 

“I’m going to die, Buck,” Steve muttered, sitting down on a nearby bench and taking deep breaths. He handed the bottle back to Bucky who laughed and shook his head. “Why did you let me eat that much junk?”

 

Bucky laughed, his hand rubbing the back of Steve’s neck.

 

“Sorry for ruining our date,” Steve mumbled, falling back against the bench seat.

 

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder and chuckled, happy to sit with Steve and people watch the rest of the night. “Nah…don’t be sorry, pal. It’s still the best damn date I’ve had in a long time.”

 

Or the time when they were just walking along the sidewalk from Oliver’s Restaurant and Steve heard a man yelling at his girlfriend. He wasn’t going to get in the middle of it, but when Steve saw the man grab her and push her, Steve couldn’t just let it go. He went right up to him and told him to quit treating her like that and got a backhanded smack across the mouth for his trouble. Steve ended up having to yell for Bucky’s men to help pull Bucky off of the guy.

 

“You fucking touch him again and I’m going to kill you!” Bucky screamed, kicking the man in the gut. “You’re goddamn lucky I ain’t going to kill you now in front of your girl, asshole!”

 

“Bucky, come on,” Morita said, pulling him away. “Buck! He’s going to die if you keep this up, man!”

 

Steve gave the girl forty bucks in cash. “Get a taxi and go home. Don’t see him again. You going to let that guy treat you like that? You deserve better. You deserve to be with a man who treats you like a person.”

 

The girl thanked him for the money, stared at Bucky like he was a god, and Gabe flagged down a cab for her, getting her in and off safely.

 

“The fuck are we going to do with this douchebag?” Gabe said, looking at the man on the ground.

 

Morita snorted. “We could just leave him here.”

 

“Put him in a cab and send him to a hospital,” Steve mumbled, his mouth puffy and stinging.

 

“You all right, Steve?” Bucky said, gently putting his hands on Steve’s cheeks and tilting his face up. “You’re not bleeding but you’re going to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow. Sometimes I think you like getting punched.”

 

Steve winced when he tried to smile. “Was just doing the right thing.”

 

Bucky stared at him and then sighed, stroking his thumb gently across Steve’s swollen bottom lip. “No good night kisses for you for a while, Rogers.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Romance and fluff; frottage and a lot of kissing.

**483 Clinton Avenue, Apartment #2**

 

It was rare for Steve to get an actual art commission, so when the director of the Food Center asked Steve to create and paint a mural on the side of their building, Steve said yes, immediately. He had worked with a number of community centers around the city, volunteering to clean vandalized brick walls and offering to paint more appropriate artwork in its place. Steve wasn’t going to win any awards, but he was known for his diverse depictions of the neighborhood and he won odd jobs from just word-of-mouth.

 

“These are cool,” Bucky said, pointing to a sketch of children playing joyfully on a playground. “That would be a nice fit for the neighborhood, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I like that one, too.”

 

Bucky hooked his chin over Steve’s shoulder, looking at the dozen sketches on Steve’s drafting table. “You’re really talented.”

 

“ _Someone_  made an anonymous donation to the Food Center and asked for me, specifically, to do the mural,” Steve said, turning to rub the tip of his nose against Bucky’s cheek. “Told the director that he admired my work around the city and wanted me to do the job. I’m getting a nice fee and everything.”

 

Bucky made a soft humming sound. “You deserve it.”

 

Steve snorted. “Come on, Buck, you can tell me if it was you.”

 

“It wasn’t me,” he said, smiling. “I’d say if it was.”

 

“Huh. Then I guess there really is someone out there who knows about my work,” Steve said, a little bit of pride in his voice.

 

“Am I going to be jealous that you have a new patron?”

 

Steve laughed, turning around and draping his arms over Bucky’s shoulders, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a jerk. But, I want you to know that if I become a famous artist one day, I won’t forget about your ugly mug.”

 

Bucky squawked indignantly and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and took three steps to the couch in his living room, pushing him down to the cushions. Steve laughed as Bucky draped himself over Steve, muscling his hips between Steve’s legs with a wide-eyed and opened mouthed smile on his face, careful not to elbow Steve anywhere.

 

Steve didn’t normally like it when his lovers used his size against him, but Bucky never manhandled him aggressively; never treated Steve like he was fragile; and never even commented on the fact that Bucky had half a dozen inches and about a hundred pounds on Steve.

 

As Bucky’s warm weight settled over him, Steve sank into the comforting and familiar feel of his body; like Steve couldn’t remember a time when it was anything different. He loved it when Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, tugging him in close. Steve soaked up the casual affection, the easy way that Bucky touched him.

 

Steve smiled up at him, running his fingers along Bucky’s smooth cheek, to his bottom lip, the dip in the cleft of his chin. He really was gorgeous like this, gray-blue eyes dark with want, mouth soft and open.

 

“You want to make out?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, leaning down to kiss him.

 

***

 

Steve had to admit that Bucky Barnes was nothing less than a gentleman.

 

They were six weeks into their relationship, and despite Bucky taking him out to some really romantic places, Steve liked it best when Bucky came over to Steve’s Clinton Hill apartment to hang out with him. They had gotten quickly accustomed to being around each other in such a short time, Steve felt like he and Bucky had been friends since they were kids.

 

“Why don’t we ever go to your place? Do you even have a place or do you just live in your office?”

 

Bucky laughed. “Sure, I have a place. I have a few properties. But the boys are always there. I’d end up having to work if we hung out there; I’d much rather be here with you. I like your apartment.”

 

Any other guy, Steve would’ve been suspicious and it would’ve itched at him until he had to know what they were hiding. But not with Bucky. In the short time he’d known the other man, Bucky had proved to be a brutally honest person. There were things that Bucky didn’t want to talk about – his business, for example – but everything else was up for grabs.

 

Bucky sighed, contentedly. “It feels like home here.”

 

Steve could tell that Bucky meant it, that Steve’s crap apartment felt like a safe haven. Steve liked it that Bucky took off his suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the kitchen doorway, took off his silk necktie, and rolled up the sleeves of his perfectly pressed dress shirt; that Bucky could shrug off his responsibilities as the head of a criminal organization when he was in Steve’s home. Bucky kicked off his polished shoes by the coffee table and Steve stared him down until Bucky got up and put his shoes next to Steve’s in the hallway.

 

“Hey, you home?” Bucky called, walking into the apartment without knocking.

 

Steve jumped and nearly dropped the wooden spoon into the pot of boiling water. He gripped the wood in his hand and came out of the kitchen, staring at Bucky. “Did you just walk into my apartment without knocking?”

 

He kicked off his shoes in the hall and was slipping out of his jacket as he walked into the living room. Bucky gave a sheepish grin. “Uh…yeah?”

 

Steve narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

 

“Sorry, pal, won’t happen again.”

 

He considered it for a long moment and realized that he kind of liked how it felt for Bucky to just come in, that he wasn’t just a guest in Steve’s place.

 

“You know what, you don’t have to knock when you come over. As long as the door’s unlocked, you can always just come in,” he said, grinning at the pleased look on Bucky’s face. “Now wash up and help me make dinner.”

 

Bucky followed Steve into the kitchen to wash his hands at the sink. He sniffed loudly and groaned.

 

“Oh god, boiled potatoes again?”

 

“Shut up, jerk, or you’ll get nothing,” Steve said, swatting him playfully with the wooden spoon in his hand.

 

Bucky laughed, twisting away. “Hey, now! You don’t even know my safeword for that kind of thing!”

 

He lightly splashed water at Steve in retaliation. Never one to stand down, Steve let out an indignant growl and charged at Bucky, grabbing him around the waist and pressing him against the counter. Steve slipped his lips against the base of Bucky’s neck, just above his shirt collar, nipping him gently. He allowed himself to have a little taste and smiled when Bucky moaned, pulling Steve against him.

 

“Don’t tease me if you don’t mean it.”

 

“I do mean it, but just be patient.”

 

Bucky grinned, gently wrapping his hands against Steve’s neck, thumbs caressing his skin. “Let’s order in, huh?”

 

Steve narrowed his eyes and smirked. “No. You’re going to eat my boiled potatoes and you’re going to like it.”

 

Bucky chuckled and let out a long sigh, pressing his forehead against Steve’s and giving in gracefully.

 

“Anything you want, Rogers.”

 

***

 

Steve thought Bucky had some endearing quirks. For one, he only ate meals at the table so Steve bought a small table and two chairs, tucked into a narrow corner of his kitchen.

 

“It’s habit,” Bucky said, sitting in his chair and obediently eating his boiled potato. “Barnes house rule; ma said that we could all have our own lives but dinner was at 7 o’clock sharp and the family ate at the dinner table together. Guess I just never broke out of the habit.”

 

“Do you and the boys have dinner together?”

 

“Sure,” Bucky said, shoving his fork into the potato. “But it’s more like sitting down to work on business with a lot of take-out.” He smiled shyly, glancing up at Steve. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to buy a table. I would’ve been fine eating on your couch.”

 

Steve snorted. “Right; because you wouldn’t have just sent Pinky over with a dining set if I hadn’t gotten something.”

 

“Well, I appreciate it.”

 

“I know you do, Buck.”

 

Another endearing quirk was that Bucky hand washed everything. Steve leaned against the counter as Bucky washed their dinner dishes, listening to him tell a hilarious story that Morita told him about the last time he went to visit his family in Fresno; or when Dum Dum’s wife nearly kicked him out of the house for “cheating” on her.

 

“No way!”

 

“Of course not, punk!” Bucky said, laughing. “It’s because he’s working with McCallister’s girls and I made him the point man for keeping an eye on them. Dum Dum made me explain to Lorraine why he had twelve new phone numbers, all of them being women, in his contacts list.”

 

Steve laughed, handing Bucky a clean hand towel. “So all’s well in the Dugan household now?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, grinning widely. “Until Dum Dum does something truly dumb to set off Lorraine again.”

 

“Come on, we can watch a movie.”

 

“Am I going to get dessert?” Bucky said, winking at him.

 

“You wish,” Steve retorted, grinning.

 

***

 

“What the hell do you mean that you liked the prequel _Star Wars_  movies better? They’re not better than the original.”

 

Bucky made a face. “The special effects are better; not to mention that the Darth Vader origin story is cool.”

 

Steve felt his mouth drop open and he stared at Bucky in disbelief. “Are you just messing with me now? Because if you really believe that, we can’t date anymore.”

 

Bucky grinned and reached up to pull off Steve’s glasses, putting them on the coffee table. He wrestled Steve down to the couch cushions and grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms over his head. Steve inhaled sharply, shivering as Bucky took him down so smoothly.

 

“Don’t make threats you don’t intend to follow through on,” Bucky said, his voice low and knowing.

 

Steve saw the look in Bucky’s eyes and knew what was going to happen when Bucky slipped one of his hands down, fingers scratching playfully along Steve’s side, pulling up his tee-shirt.

 

“Don’t do it,” he warned, his eyes widening, trying to brace himself for what was coming. He wiggled, trying to get free, but he was definitely pinned effectively. “Bucky, don’t even think about—“

 

Bucky smirked and tickled him mercilessly. Steve snorted and then laughed helplessly, mouth wide and head back, twisting under Bucky’s warm weight. He tried to knee Bucky but Bucky quickly averted his hips and dug his thighs between Steve’s legs, holding him down against the couch.

 

“Buck!”

 

Bucky smiled, licking his lips. “I like it when you get all wriggly.”

 

Steve laughed and laughed, loud and free, unable to stop, and tugging fruitlessly at Bucky’s implacable hold on his wrists, thrusting and bucking under him to get free.

 

“Jerk!” Steve yelled, laughing so hard that tears were forming in his eyes. He squeezed them shut when he felt Bucky’s strong fingers hit the spot just under his ribs that was extra sensitive. “You—you fucker!” More high-pitched giggles escaped his mouth; the sound was mortifying to Steve’s ears and he knew his face was flushed with a rosy blush. “Bucky! Fuck! Oh god, Bucky! _Bucky_!”

 

“Jesus,” Bucky hissed, tucking his face against Steve’s neck. “Jesus, Steve.”

 

Steve let his giggles ease off, panting for breath. His legs had wrapped tightly around Bucky’s thighs, the heel of his right foot kicking the back of Bucky’s knee, and he chuckled in between inhaling and exhaling.

 

He felt a little lightheaded and floaty and chuckled deeply when he heard Bucky panting thickly on his shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong with you? Did I kick you somewhere?”

 

Bucky groaned, muffled against Steve’s shirt. “I’m so fucking turned on right now.”

 

Steve blinked up at the ceiling, a smile forming on his lips. “From tickling me until I begged?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Oh. _Ohhhhh…_

 

He realized the position that he was in; and when he shifted his hips slightly, he felt Bucky’s cock pressing into the groove of his pelvis. It felt thick and hard; and it left Steve wondering how it would look and how it would feel in his mouth, in his hand, in his ass.

 

Bucky groaned again. “For fuck’s sake, don’t. Move.”

 

_Ohhh…_

 

Steve bit his bottom lip and tightened his legs around Bucky, moving his hips experimentally against Bucky.

 

Bucky made some kind of hilarious low-pitched growl and he raised his head to glare at Steve. “You better cut that out or I’m going to do something.”

 

Steve licked his bottom lip and quirked his lips into a smirk. “Come on, Buck, rub one off on me. I want you to do it.”

 

“You little punk!” Bucky said, kissing Steve’s mouth, hard and deep, tongue slipping against Steve’s lips and deeper inside, tasting his mouth. Steve sucked on Bucky’s tongue, snickering when Bucky moaned, the sound vibrating against his chest.

 

Bucky let go of Steve’s wrists, but Steve whined in protest and pulled out of the kiss, blinking up at Bucky.

 

“No, keep holding me down, I like it,” he said, meet Bucky’s eyes.

 

“Fucking going to kill me, Rogers,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s wrists in both of his hands, holding him firmly but not enough to hurt or leave marks. Steve watched as Bucky carefully moved over Steve, putting his weight on his forearms, braced against the couch cushions.

 

Steve grinned, leaning up to kiss Bucky’s mouth, drawing him down on top of him.

 

They shifted their lower bodies, fitting against each other perfectly. Steve liked the feel of Bucky’s cock hot and hard against his own, liked the feel of the heavy thickness of it, and liked the way Bucky shifted and rubbed on him.

 

“You feel so good,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips.

 

Steve arched up against Bucky’s heat, closing his eyes and keening against Bucky’s tongue, as the friction from their clothes rubbed against his cock, just on the edge of discomfort, but the pleasure and Bucky’s panting wetly against Steve’s neck and his throaty grunts were driving Steve a little crazy, the sound of his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

 

Bucky broke from the kiss, panting through his mouth. He groaned and ducked his head against Steve’s neck, his lips pressed against Steve’s earlobe.

 

“—gonna fuck you so hard, baby, make you come with my cock inside of you,” Bucky mumbled, breathless and tense. “—make you feel it, make you beg for it, just like this—“

 

He shoved his hips against Steve roughly and Steve bit back a whimper, moving his knees up to get a better grip around Bucky’s thighs.

 

“Come on, Buck, come on,” he urged, shifting his hips into a better position under him.

 

Bucky let go of one of his wrists, hand sliding down between their bodies to cup around Steve’s cock. Steve opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, moaning when Bucky’s hand palmed down the length of his cock over his khaki pants and then squeezing over the head.

 

“God, Steve, the things I want to do with you – do _to_   you,” Bucky whispered thickly against his ear. “Sexy fucking little punk. Come on, baby, let me feel you come, let me see, come on, sweetheart.”

 

_“Yes. Buck. Ohh!”_

He grabbed the back of Bucky’s neck with his free hand, legs tightening even more, and squeezed his eyes shut as he just let go, letting the pleasure throb through his body.

 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it… _ohhh_ _fuck_!”

 

Steve let out a choked cry through clenched teeth as he shuddered under Bucky, hips lifting in a greedy, hurried pace, needing more, demanding all of it. Bucky let out a hoarse grunt as he came, grinding his hips down on Steve, pinning him to the cushions, and rutting helplessly on Steve.

 

Bucky let go of Steve’s wrist, sliding his damp palm along Steve’s hand to tangle his fingers with Steve’s fingers, grounding them in the moment. His other hand stroked up Steve’s mucked up tee-shirt, gently touching the sensitive skin with soft fingertips. He was glad that Bucky had the sense of mind to move off of Steve, trying to keep his weight off of Steve’s chest so that they could both catch their breaths.

 

“Wow,” Steve said, chuckling dazedly. “If this is what it’s like just rubbing one off on each other, I’m not going to survive when we actually have sex.”

 

Bucky grunted against Steve’s neck, his body shaking with silent laughter. “Can you just let us enjoy the fucking afterglow, punk?”

 

Steve curled his fingers around Bucky’s hand and dug his nails into Bucky’s skin in playful punishment. He turned his head and smiled when Bucky lifted his face off Steve’s shoulder, eyelids drooping and hair completely mussed. He leaned towards Bucky and kissed his mouth, letting his lips drag across Bucky’s, opening slightly when he felt the tip of Bucky’s tongue trace along the edge of his mouth.

 

He whimpered into the kiss and jerked uncontrollably when he felt Bucky’s other hand stroke over his cock, squeezing the still hard shaft.

 

“Oh! Too much!” Steve mumbled, reaching down to pull Bucky’s hand away.

 

Bucky chuckled, sucking on Steve’s jaw. “ _Mmmm_ …I’d say it was just right.”

 

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “That was so lame, even for you.”

 

Bucky retaliated by digging his fingers into Steve’s side, tickling him.

 

“No! No, no, bad touch, red light!” Steve gasped, laughing. He grabbed Bucky by the wrist and pulled his hand away. “Don’t get me started, I’ll throw up.”

  
Bucky made a pained expression and raised his face to look at Steve. “Your sex talk needs some work there, pal.”

 

Steve ignored him, perfectly content to feel heavy and thick and warm; the pleasure still coursing through him in long, gentle pulses. He laughed, falling back into the cushions, letting Bucky shift him so that they were curled on their sides on the couch. It wasn’t nearly big enough to hold the both of them and Steve contemplated maybe going to the thrift store and getting a wide sectional.

 

“Ugh,” he complained, reaching down to shift the front of his khaki pants, feeling the wet boxers sticking to his skin.

 

Bucky laughed. “Quit moving and let me enjoy this.”

 

“I need a shower.”

 

“And I need to get my pants to a dry cleaner before it ruins the fabric but I ain’t moving just yet,” Bucky complained, tightening his hold around Steve.

 

Steve closed his eyes and snickered, enjoying the way that Bucky curved around him.

 

Bucky breathed deeply and sighed contentedly against the back of Steve’s neck. “Damn…we probably shouldn’t have any more dinners at your place anymore, not if you don’t want to end up getting fucked on every surface in here. I’m not going to want to stop with just rubbing one off, Steve.”

 

Steve licked his lips and opened his eyes, a small frown edging on his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we should just keep to our normal dates for now, you know, try to avoid temptation?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You—you really don’t mind waiting just a little while longer? I know it’s going to be really good between us, I mean after this I’m probably going to be jerking off a lot more than I have been before, but I just want to be sure and—“

 

“Steve, you don’t have to explain anything,” Bucky murmured, kissing his ear. “I can wait. I know what I’m waiting for.”

 

Steve bit his lip and then snickered quietly. “Aw, Buck, that was so romantic.”

 

“Shut it, Rogers,” Bucky grumbled, biting the back of Steve’s neck and chuckling softly. “You just wait, you little punk, you just wait for what I’m going to do to you when I get you in my bed.”

 

He snuggled in close against Bucky, closing his eyes again.

 

***

 

In Steve’s estimation, the best diners in Brooklyn had three key components: (1) They were usually family owned and operated; (2) The food was rich and servings were plentiful; and (3) Steve and Bucky could tuck away in a corner booth and spend hours talking, enjoying each other’s company.

 

It was common for the owners to not let them pay their food bill. It always made Steve feel uncomfortable, like he was taking advantage, but Bucky made up for the difference by leaving a generous tip, much more than even the cost of their meals.

 

True to his word, Bucky didn’t press for nights in Steve’s apartment. Some days, he was so distracted with business that Steve made the trek to Sunset Park, bringing Bucky something he’d whipped up at home and to steal an hour of two of Bucky’s time.

 

“Boiled potatoes?” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows.

 

Steve made a face. “I brought burgers, jerk.”

 

“Want to go up to the roof?” Bucky said, pulling him in for a hug. He sighed, letting Steve hold his weight. “I’m glad you’re here, I really wanted to see you.”

 

He patted Bucky’s back and squeezed him tightly. “You got to eat, right?”

 

Bucky was a true gentleman, the kind of man Steve’s ma would’ve approved of. He was exceptionally polite and had an old-fashioned sense of chivalry. He made sure to get Steve home and walked him to his apartment door.

 

Steve always felt like his stomach was dropping into his guts, a nervous tingle that was also part excitement. He took his time unlocking the three bolts on his apartment door, leaning against the door jamb as he chatted with Bucky, making plans for their next night out, eyes flicking down to Bucky’s mouth and licking his own lips as he watched them move, and then up to Bucky’s pretty blue-gray eyes to see them crinkle at the edges as Bucky worked on keeping control over his smug smile.

 

He never knew who made the first move, but Steve had his arms tight around Bucky’s neck, clinging to him as Bucky’s tongue filled his mouth, both of them gorging on the taste of the other, unable to get enough. Every once in a while, Bucky pulled Steve off his feet so that Steve was on the tips of his shoes, back arched, balance precarious, as he let Bucky hold him up, taking his time to kiss Steve deeply.

 

“Fuck, get inside right the hell now,” Bucky said, pulling Steve’s arms off of him and opening the apartment door to push Steve inside.

 

“Buck—“

 

“I’m going to end up fucking you in the middle of the hallway and I won’t care if everyone came out to watch,” he hissed, voice gravelly with want.

 

He watched as Bucky braced his hands on the door jamb, eyes narrowed and staring at Steve. He shifted his weight on his feet, swaying slightly, like if Steve gave Bucky permission to come into his apartment, he was gearing up to jump Steve in his tiny foyer and wrestle him down to the hardwood floor and fuck him stupid.

 

All he needed to do was say yes to Bucky…

 

It sent a dirty shiver down Steve’s back as he met the wild look in Bucky’s dark eyes.

 

Steve swallowed and took a deep breath, his hand on the edge of the door. He bit his lip and smiled shyly at Bucky. “Goodnight, Buck.”

 

Bucky smirked, looking like he knew what was going through Steve’s mind. He pushed gracefully off the door jamb, hands clasped behind his back. “Night, pal, sweet dreams.”

 

“Yeah, you too, Buck.”

 

Steve let out a sigh and closed the door, locking all three bolts, and he walked into his circular living room to look out the window as Bucky walked out of his apartment building.

 

Below, leaning against the SUV, Morita and Gabe teased Bucky loudly, Morita making kissy faces at Bucky as Gabe laughed, rounding the vehicle to the driver’s side.

 

“Awww, shut your face!” Steve heard Bucky yell, laughing with them.

 

Steve grinned and held up his hand when Bucky opened the back door, turning to look up to see Steve standing there. He winked up at Steve and disappeared into the back of the car. Morita wore a wide smile on his face, waving his hand at Steve.

 

Steve gave him the finger and laughed at Morita’s fake shocked expression. He watched as Morita got in the front passenger side, the SUV pulling slowly away from the curb and moving down the street.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More about the Howling Commandos. I wasn't going to include this chapter since it's a lot of exposition! But I have a strong love for the Howling Commandos and I wanted to show Steve fitting in with Bucky's family of choice. 
> 
> No warnings; just fluffy fun! 
> 
> Next chapter will be the start of the darker elements to this story. Tags will change to reflect the changes. FYI.

**483 Clinton Avenue, Apartment #2**

 

It was clear that Bucky’s relationship with the five men in his inner circle was built on something more than just trust and loyalty. There was an unspoken familiarity among them, the kind of bond that was unbreakable; like men who had fought together and suffered together in war.

 

“I’d take a bullet for any one of them,” Bucky told Steve, as they worked through dessert, during their first rooftop date.

 

Steve knew that they were good men and he wanted to gain their trust as well on his own terms. So on nights when Bucky was unavailable, Steve was a little annoyed that Bucky would send one or more of the boys to keep Steve company.

 

“I’m a fully grown man, I don’t need babysitters, Buck!”

 

“They’re not babysitters; don’t disrespect them like that, Steve!”

 

Steve made a face, heaving out a noisy sigh, unclenching his shoulders. “No disrespect, Bucky, I swear. But you don’t have to send them to hang out with me. They probably got better things to do and I don’t want to waste their time.”

 

Bucky blinked. “Waste their time? Do you think I send them to you because it’s their job?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit if you think that I have that kind of control over what they do, pal.”

 

“Aren’t they always on the clock?”

 

“Outside of official business hours, the boys work in shifts whenever I’m out or if we’re monitoring activity,” he said, smiling sweetly. “If we’re in the middle of a war or hostile activity, then everyone is on the clock, but we’re not in war time right now.”

 

Steve frowned. “Then how come they come and hang out with me if you’re not sending them?”

 

“Might be because they like you? Shit, more like they’re trying to keep you out of trouble.”

 

Bucky laughed uproariously at Steve’s annoyed expression, but he wrapped his arm behind Steve’s neck and gently kissed his lips.

 

“Look, the boys like you, Steve; and if they hang out with you, it’s because they want to, not because anyone told them to,” he said, kindly. “So if you want to get to know them, or not, and hang out with them when I’m not around, or not, that’s completely up to you.”

 

Steve grinned and nodded. “All right, Buck.”

 

He was surprised to learn that Bucky had about 120 members in his Howling Commandos, with his inner circle of boys leading their own teams and also overseeing the legitimate businesses under the Barnes organization.

 

“Aren’t you worried that the cops or the feds will infiltrate your organization?”

 

Bucky gave Steve a long, considering look, blue-gray eyes slightly narrowed like he was trying to figure out why Steve was interested in his business. It made Steve uncomfortable, being the object of _that_  stare, that he hastily looked away and bit his bottom lip.

 

“If you don’t want to talk about it…”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he said, seriously. “It’s not an easy thing for someone to carry and I don’t want to taint you, I guess, with some of the dirty work that we have to do.”

 

“I’m not going to judge you, Bucky,” Steve said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Come on, I grew up here – hell, I grew up _poor_. You think I didn’t see how people made ends meet?”

 

“Then why did you ask?”

 

Steve met Bucky’s eyes. “I guess I just want to get to know what you do. You guys are always…talking _around_   me, like I don’t know what you’re really trying to say. And I want you and the guys to know that I’m not going to be shocked by anything you do.”

 

“I’m not some criminal kingpin or anything like that,” Bucky said, chuckling. “The Barnes organization has ties to the community but that’s because this is home and we want to keep our neighborhoods safe. World we live in today, it’s not just all about guns. There are faster ways – more _efficient_  ways – to get rid of a rival than having a shootout on the streets.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, lips curving into a teasing smile as he tilted his head back proudly. “The Barnes organization has legit business holdings in real estate, manufacturing, textiles, and some retail. Most of my job is so mind-numbingly boring, Steve, it’s a lot of number crunching and keeping an eye on our international investments. Seriously, I’d rather be out there running around as muscle, but dad made sure that I got a well-rounded education before he passed the business on to me.”

 

“Oh. It never occurred to me that…”

 

Bucky smirked. “That I’m a businessman?”

 

“I don’t mean no insult, Buck—“

 

“That’s all right,” he said, laughing softly. “I kind of like the idea that **you** think I’m a bad ass crime boss.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You **are** a bad ass crime boss.”

 

Bucky laughed louder. “Okay, you got me there, but it’s not all I am.”

 

“So how come the guys are called Howling Commandos?”

 

“You know that Tim and I grew up together in the neighborhood,” Bucky told him, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the evening sky. Steve nodded, waiting for Bucky to continue. “Our dads, shit even before that, our **grand dads** ran Brooklyn, you know, back in the Forties. George Senior and Aloysius Dugan were quite the team, so it made sense that my dad and Tim’s pa, Big Tim, took over, and then me and Dum Dum grew up into the business together.”

 

Tim was Bucky’s right hand man and, even though no one said outright Steve was able to kernel out, his enforcer.

 

“So when dad told me to enlist, Dum Dum joined up, too. We were in the same unit, the 107th; and when I was on special assignment in Somalia, I asked if I could pick my team so I pulled in Tim, Morita, and Gabe. The Howling Commandos was our unit call sign, so it just stuck. And then we brought in Dernier and Monty when we left the military.”

 

And the thing of it was that all of the guys _were_  good company. Really good. Steve did like hanging out with them and he was surprisingly relieved to know that they weren’t spending time with him out of duty to Bucky.

 

For a Brooklyn boy, Bucky was unconventional in going outside of the neighborhood with who made up his inner circle.

 

“I’m only third generation Brooklyn; most of my family still live back in Indiana. It was George Senior who brought his new wife to New York to put down our roots,” Bucky explained, grinning. “Truth be told, when ma was pregnant with me, she was out visiting family when she had me.”

 

Steve widened his eyes. “You mean, you weren’t even born in Brooklyn?”

 

“Shelbyville,” he said, laughing.

 

“Lies, all of it, lies,” Steve groused, giggling.

 

“Just because we weren’t all native to Brooklyn don’t mean that we don’t love this wicked little city like she’s our own,” Bucky said, taking a deep breath. “The boys followed me here because I needed them here, to help me keep her safe, help me rebuild her.”

 

Tim’s family called Boston home. Aloysius Dugan was still wet behind the ears when he first met George Senior in the alley behind a club. He’d come with his pa to Brooklyn to deliver some goods to the Barnes organization, courtesy of the Winter Hill Gang. He was just 14-years old and had snuck off to smoke one of his pa’s cigars. George Senior,, a clever 22-year old, was already street tough and humorless, found Aloysius puking his guts out pretty hilarious. A lifelong friendship was formed, and Aloysius moved permanently to join the Barnes organization in Brooklyn when he was sixteen.

 

“I’m afraid that this whole _throwing-up-between-pals_ thing is a pattern with you Barnes men,” Steve said, making a face as Bucky laughed.

 

“Yeah…that’s how I met Monty, you know,” Bucky said, wistfully.

 

James Montgomery Falsworth was a Brit and Steve enviously thought the older man was pretty damn suave. He was one of those free living extreme sports guys, jumping off mountains or out of airplanes without a parachute, insane stuff like that.

 

“One time when we were on leave in London, I bet Bucky a grand to BASE jump off The Shard,” Morita said, snickering. “Bucky took that bet and hired Monty to consult on the jump since Monty was the first man on record to BASE jump from it.”

 

Steve covered his eyes with his hand. “Jesus.”

 

Gabe laughed, falling against Morita. “Oh man, when Bucky landed, he was so green in the face. He’d puked like twice midair and landed flat on his ass.”

 

“Monty was smoking a fucking cigarette, all _la-di-da as you please, sir, is it time for tea_ , when he dropped down like a goddamn butterfly while Bucky was dry heaving all over the place. Bucky looked up at him and offered him a job in the Barnes organization once he got out of the military,” Morita said, laughing. “And damn if Monty didn’t show up when Bucky called.”

 

Gabe shared a look of pride with Morita and then looked at Steve. “Seriously, though, I can’t remember a time when Bucky was more proud than when he got his BASE number.”

 

“What’s a BASE number?” Steve said, curiously.

 

“When someone jumps from all four object categories – buildings, antennas, spans, earth – they can request a BASE number. Bucky’s is BASE #1680. Monty’s is BASE #1000. It’s pretty fucking cool, huh?”

 

“I’d much rather keep Bucky alive a little longer,” Steve commented, chuckling softly. “I wouldn’t have thought Monty was so extreme. He wears a cardigan and a beret for God’s sake.”

 

“Last winter, Monty wanted to take Bucky to jump off a moving train off some crazy mountainside in Austria, but we convinced Bucky not to do it,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “Fucking crazy Brit!”

 

Steve winced, his heart stuttering in his chest. “Please don’t ever let Bucky jump off a goddamn train, okay? Promise me.”

 

But out of all the boys, Steve’s favorites were Morita and Gabe.

 

Jim Morita grew up in California and from what Steve could determine it was in some hippie commune.

 

“Oh yeah, it was free love and get naked 24-7. We grew and sold some primo pot. My parents homeschooled me and I finished high school like when I was ten or something,” Morita said, a fond look on his face. “I joined up because I got kind of bored, you know? I wanted to see more of the world, get out of the commune for a bit, put on some pants.”

 

“Jimmy’s got a little greenhouse on top of his apartment complex,” Gabe said, wiggling his eyebrows. “We’ll bring you some if you want. The stuff is the best I’ve ever had.”

 

Steve grinned and gave a little shrug. “Sure, why not?”

 

Gabe Jones was at Howard University, working on his engineering degree, when he lost his scholarship and joined the Army to take advantage of the G.I. Bill.

 

“Gabe got his Business degree from NYU, top of his class and everything,” Morita said, locking his arm behind Gabe’s head and pulling him in close.

 

Steve smiled, looking at the two of them. He laughed as they rough-housed across his living room floor, drinking his beer slowly.

 

“Okay, so I get you guys, Dum Dum, and Monty, but what the hell is up with Dernier?”

 

Morita and Gabe stopped wrestling and looked up at Steve, bursting out in loud peals of laughter.

 

Tim was often too busy to hang out, but when he was off the clock, he’d join Steve and the others for a drink now and then. Monty spent a lot of time traveling for Bucky and buying designer brand cardigans on his business trips. He and Tim had wives and kids and were family men, so Steve didn’t see them as often as he saw Morita and Gabe.

 

Jacques Dernier was an odd duck, the couple of times that Steve met him, and he spoke rapid-fire French, which only Gabe could keep up with, and talked about his “research” in bomb-making. No one else spoke French and Dernier didn’t seem to speak English, but everyone seemed to understand each other.

 

“Dernier used to serve on the French _Armee de Terre_ , demolitions dude,” Gabe explained, laughing deeply. “The guys and I were on our way back from Africa and we took a stopover in Paris to check out the sights—“

 

“More like so Gabe could practice his French,” Morita said, snickering.

 

“Hey, man, _le français est une belle langue._ _Il est le langage de l'amour—“_

 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, so while Gabe was hitting on every woman who would give him the time of day, we saw this little French dude getting drunk at the bar, so Bucky goes over to him and he’s like, ‘you look like a soldier and no soldier should have to drink alone.’”

 

Gabe nodded, chuckling. “And we find out that the reason he’s sad is because the French Army won’t let him play with explosives anymore because he’s partially deaf in his left ear.”

 

Morita slapped hands with Gabe. “So Bucky recruited him.”

 

“And now Dernier gets to have a whole warehouse of bombs to play with!”

 

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

 

Morita got up from the floor and sauntered into the kitchen to get them more beers.

 

“It’s been a long time since we talked about the boys,” Gabe said, sitting against the couch. “It’s not like we can talk about the boys or what we do with Bucky’s other lovers.”

 

Steve raised his bottle of beer to his lips and stopped, his eyes darting over to Gabe.

 

“ _Awww_  shit, Jones,” Morita muttered, walking into the living room and handing a beer to Gabe.

 

“Uhh…let me rephrase that,” Gabe said, his brown eyes widening as he looked over at Steve.

 

Steve took his sip of beer and swallowed, sighing softly. “Bucky has other lovers?”

 

“He **used** to have other lovers,” Morita said, shrugging. “Bucky doesn’t date, as you can probably understand why, so he has people that he goes to see. They’re discreet and Bucky keeps his work separate from them.”

 

He watched as Morita kicked Gabe in the thigh.

 

“Look, Steve, I’m going to be honest with you. Bucky hasn’t visited any of his lovers since he started seeing you,” Gabe said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “He told Pinky to pay them off, get them settled, you know what I mean?”

 

Steve actually did know what Gabe meant. It meant that Bucky broke it off cleanly with his lovers… _for Steve_. Bucky let them go because he was dating Steve, that it was something real and Steve wasn’t just another notch of convenience on Bucky’s belt. He kind of liked that he was getting Bucky all to himself. He felt his lips curve into a small smile and he looked up at his friends and chuckled.

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Gabe,” he said, smiling widely now.

 

It meant that Bucky was _his_   and that was all he needed to know.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DARK CHAPTER; TRIGGER WARNINGS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This is the dark chapter that I've been warning about. Everything pretty much in this story takes a very dark turn. There’s sex, but it’s not exactly gentle or romantic (but completely consensual). There’s graphic violence/torture of an alleged serial rapist; and Steve is tortured at the end (off camera). I’ll label triggers before each section of the chapter.

**The Food Center**

 

Steve smiled, watching the other volunteers as they worked on the wall mural that he’d created. His design of children playing won and the Board commissioned Steve to begin work right away. He was exceptionally pleased when the center’s volunteers and some of the people who came to the center asked to help, wanting to be involved in helping Steve create something beautiful for their community.

 

He wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, filling in the detail work, left hand clutching the top of the tall ladder.

 

“It’s really turning out great,” Sam Wilson called from above, hanging off the top of the roof as he painted the highest points of the mural. “It’s kind of cool seeing it from this perspective.”

 

“Sam, don’t you dare fall off the building and ruin my mural,” he said, chuckling softly. “Are you wearing your safety harness?”

 

“Are _you_?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mother hen me more than Bucky.”

 

Sam dangled over the edge – and Steve was glad to see that he was wearing his safety harness; Steve was annoyed that Sam thought he was some kind of bird, probably a falcon or something death defying and ridiculous – and swung closer towards Steve.

 

“Speaking of Bucky—“

 

“Oh, here we go,” Steve muttered, raising his eyebrow. “Why do you dislike him? He’s never done anything to you, Sam.”

 

_That he could possibly imagine,_ Steve thought.

 

“I don’t _dislike_  him. He’s a funny dude and he treats you right.” Sam grinned, kindly. “But that’s not my point, Steve.”

 

“Then what is your point?” He said, stopping his painting to look up at Sam.

 

Sam Wilson was his best friend, but Steve wouldn’t tolerate any badmouthing from him. It was one thing to not like Bucky because of a personality clash or because the two of them just didn’t click, these things happened and Steve wasn’t going to force them to become friends. But Steve wouldn’t sit back and let either one of them disparage the other, simply because they didn’t approve of their jobs.

 

“Don’t get all protective-mode on me, Rogers,” Sam said, giving him a no-bullshit look. “I’m just saying that he’s a dangerous dude and there is something is going down and I don’t want to see you get in the middle of whatever Barnes is doing.”

 

Steve frowned. He hadn’t heard of anything; then again, the boys weren’t always so forthcoming about the less than legitimate parts of their business in front of Steve.

 

“What’ve you heard?”

 

“Nothing but rumors and speculation,” Sam said, lowering himself down so that he was balanced beside Steve. “I’ve just heard some chatter from multiple sources.”

 

Steve knew that Sam’s “chatter” was from the street kids and the homeless vets throughout the city.

 

Since leaving active military service, Sam worked for the Department of Veterans Affairs as a counselor, and as well as volunteering at the Food Center, he volunteered to run a support group for returning military and vets.

 

He wasn’t born and bred in Brooklyn, but grew up in Harlem. His parents were deeply religious and young Sam grew up thinking that they were naïve and too forgiving of the ugly world around them. Before Sam joined the military, he was a jaded and angry teenager, and ran with a gang. Sam always said that the military put him back on a road that he was proud to be on. It gave him back a sense of self-respect, and sense of respect for others. Steve understood where Sam’s rage came from because it was the same thing that Steve felt growing up poor and bullied. Steve might be the unofficial community advocate, but Sam had his own ear to the ground and heard things that ran through the local gangs. 

 

“What kind of chatter? About Buck?”

 

“Just stuff that I’ve been hearing through the neighborhoods,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “Ever heard of a group called HYDRA out in Jersey?”

 

He had heard of HYDRA. Some of the neighborhood folks talked about a shake-up in leadership in New Jersey, with HYDRA coming out the winner. They’d taken over Atlantic City. He’d heard the name Alexander Pierce from Bucky and the boys, but nothing ever specific about how Bucky was connected to him.

 

From all accounts – most of it was just based on rumors – HYDRA had taken over all of the criminal elements and was moving into racketeering, extortion, gambling, prostitution, blackmail, and a host of other unappetizing things.

 

Steve shrugged. “Only what everyone else knows.”

 

“You know my cousin who works on the Force over there—“  


“Raymond, yeah.”  

 

“He said that the crime rate – I know, the crime rate in Jersey, right – has been going up, it’s starting to go into the suburbs, and there’s talk of a new boss named Pierce that’s heading up the group.”

 

“So what does this have to do with Bucky?”

 

Sam gave him a look. “Well, HYDRA’s moving into the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood and making a big push into midtown. My sources tell me that the HK boss, dude named Fisk, has been fighting a two-front war – HYDRA on one side and some street kid vigilante that dresses up like a devil or something. It’s only a matter of time before HYDRA crosses the Brooklyn Bridge and goes up against the Barnes organization and then into Queens and the Bronx. HYDRA wants all of New York City.”

 

“Well, they’re not going to get very far if they go up against Bucky and the Howling Commandos,” Steve said, confidently.

 

“I’m just worried that you’re going to get caught in the crossfire.”

 

Steve grinned. “Sam, I stay out of Bucky’s business. We both want it that way. I’m neutral; I don’t use Bucky to help with our neighborhood issues—“

 

“You can’t be that naïve, right?” Sam said, seriously. “Just because you don’t go to Bucky doesn’t mean that he and his boys aren’t out there keeping an eye on you.”

 

“I know they do,” he said, smiling slightly. “In all relationships, you have to make compromises.”

 

“I’d rather you didn’t have to _compromise_   your safety, Steve.”

 

“I’m not! Sam, I’m not—“

 

“Look, just be careful, okay? Just protect yourself, bottom line.”

 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, I’ll be careful, _shesh_! Mother hen. Get back to work, Wilson.”

 

“Aye, Captain!” Sam called, kicking his feet from the brick wall and moving further away to work on his section of the mural.

 

***

 

**Sunset Park HQ**

(Major Trigger Warnings: Graphic description of violence/gore/torture; Discussion/accusation of alleged serial rape/rapist)

 

 

Steve made his way into Bucky’s HQ, carrying several bags of food from the local Brooklyn diner that they all liked. It had been a few days since he’d seen Bucky or the boys and Steve admitted that he’d really missed all of them.

 

_“Got a new project that we’re all focused on right now, pal,” Bucky said, dropping him at his front door. “Might not see us for a few days.”_

_Steve laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll live.”_

_“Who said anything about you,” Bucky said, leaning in close to him. “Give me my kiss goodnight, punk.”_

 

“Evening, Steve,” called one of the guards at the door. “Go right on up, Bucky and the boys are in a meeting in the garage, he’ll be with you in a sec.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, walking into the lobby of the building to the elevator as one of the guards picked up his walkie-talkie, letting someone know that Steve was in the building.

 

The elevator doors opened and Steve stepped in. His finger moved to hit the number 5 button, when he changed his mind and hit the letter G instead. He’d just meet them all downstairs, bring them dinner, and then go up to wait for Bucky in his office while they finished up their meeting.

 

Steve was smiling, looking forward to spending time with Bucky and the boys, when the doors opened and he stepped into the garage to the sound of a man gurgling and screaming. He rushed forward, trying to figure out what was going on, when he saw Bucky and the boys standing around a man hanging by his wrists from one of the low ceiling steel beams, naked, blood and god knows what else on the ground below him.

 

Bucky wore what looked like a black biohazard jumpsuit, protective gloves, and held an acetylene torch in his hand, a grim expression on his face.

 

“How many did you rape, Dooley? You’ve been taking girls from all five boroughs, haven’t you?” Bucky said, his voice rough from yelling.

 

“I didn’t! I swear, Mr. Barnes, it wasn’t me!”

 

“Three of the girls identified you – the ones you left their eyes!” Tim shouted, stepping forward and giving a hard kick to the man’s groin. He jerked in his bonds, screaming wildly. “Put the fire to this motherfucker, Bucky, the least we can do is cleanse his body before we send his soul to hell and beyond.”

 

Bucky gave the man an emotionless look. “I’m going to keep you alive for as long as I can, Dooley. You’re going to beg for death before I’m finished with you. I’ll take your eyes, just like what you did to those women, and then I’ll take your dick. And if you’re still alive by then, I’ll let you hang here until you bleed out.” He turned to Falsworth. “Give him the adrenaline booster.”

 

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Falsworth said, his English accent cold and biting.

 

Steve flinched as he watched Falsworth hold up the large needle syringe, jabbing it into the man’s chest.

 

“No! Please! Don’t hurt me!” Dooley begged, screaming as he tried to move away from Bucky. He inhaled deeply, shuddering, grunting through clenched teeth as the adrenaline hit him.

 

“How many of them begged for _you_   to stop?” Bucky said, softly, turning the flame on the torch higher, the white-blue of the flame intensifying. “You didn’t stop, why should I?”

 

“Tell us the truth,” Tim said, beefy arms crossed in front of his chest. “Admit what you did and maybe I can convince the boss here to let you go fast.”

 

Bucky flicked a distasteful look at Dooley, but his voice remained low and rough. “I ain’t in any kind of hurry, Ted. I got all night. We’ll go for as long as you last. We got plenty of IVs and adrenaline to keep your heart beating through this.”

 

“I didn’t, I swear I didn’t, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t—“

 

Steve watched as Bucky slowly swept the flame across Dooley’s chest and Steve dropped the bags of food on the floor, gagging from the smell and sound of burning flesh. He whimpered, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide as he stared at Bucky.

 

“Jesus, Steve!” Bucky yelled, stepping back and staring at Steve. He motioned to Gabe. “Get him the fuck out of here!”

 

Dooley screamed, his whole body jerking from the pain. He spat on Bucky, spit and blood trickling down the front of his biohazard suit. He started to laugh, long and delirious. “I didn’t do anything wrong! They wanted it! They _begged_  for it! Especially the little one. She was the sweetest—“    

                                                                    

“Sick motherfucker,” Tim shouted, kicking the man’s knee. Steve heard the bone crack, more screams coming from the man.  

 

“What the hell is going on?” Steve said, wiping his mouth with his hand. “What—Bucky? What are you doing?”  


Gabe grabbed Steve by the shoulders as Morita went to the elevators, hitting the call button. The doors opened immediately and Gabe pushed Steve into the elevator.

 

“Bucky! Get off me, guys! Bucky, what are you doing! Bucky!” Steve shouted, trying to push past Gabe and Morita. Bucky turned and watched him, meeting Steve’s eyes, the elevator doors closing between them. “What the fuck? What the fuck was that!”

 

“Calm down, Steve,” Gabe said, his voice low and soothing.

 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” Steve said, breathing heavily. “That—that was torture!”

 

The look on Bucky’s face while he burned that man…Steve gulped down air, his hands pressing against the elevator wall. He’d never seen that kind of look on Bucky’s face before…cold and merciless…it was like the man Steve knew didn’t exist. That wasn’t Bucky Barnes looking back at him.

 

“That was justice with a little vengeance thrown in,” Morita said, his voice thick with emotion. “That fucker was the ‘Five Borough Rapist,’ Steve. We caught him fair and square. The girls identified him.”

 

“Cool it, Morita,” Gabe said, looking at the other man.

 

Steve panted, his body shaking, pushed to the corner of the elevator by Gabe’s strong hands. He looked at Gabe, who nodded in confirmation.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, about Bucky, about us, and about what you saw – just hear me out first before you make any decisions, okay?” Gabe said, ducking his head to catch Steve’s eyes.

 

“If you caught him, then why didn’t you just take him to the police?” Steve said, hands gripping onto Gabe’s arm. “This doesn’t make sense! You—you guys don’t do this!”

 

“We have to do it because no one else can or will,” Morita said, looking evenly at Steve.

 

“Morita, chill out; get Steve something to drink,” Gabe told him, sharply.

 

The elevator doors opened and Steve looked out to see that they were on the 5th floor, Bucky’s cozy office in view. Gabe pulled him carefully into the hallway, walking Steve to the leather couch and setting him down.

 

“Look, Steve, sometimes street justice works a hell of a lot better than putting a nasty shit stain like Ted Dooley through the legal system,” Gabe said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “He raped eleven women, four of them teenage girls, the youngest one just turned ten-years old. He really hurt them, Steve, the things he did to them. He mutilated them. It was unspeakable, what he did to them. That’s eleven of our people – sisters, daughters, mothers – Bucky’s people, and he’ll do everything he can to protect them from scum like Dooley, even if it’s to protect them from having to get up on the stand and face in him court. The court system’s not out to protect the victims, it’s set up for Dooley to buy himself a fancy lawyer and to put the women on trial, rape them all over again in public. We got the proof we needed – DNA and ID and everything. Bucky did his due diligence before we took Dooley down to the garage. I promise you. I swear to you, Steve, that Bucky wouldn’t do this out of fun. He doesn’t like this part of his job, but he’ll do it.”

 

Steve bit his bottom lip hard, his hands still trembling. Morita walked towards him, holding out a bottle of chilled water. Steve took it gratefully, twisting the cap to open it, taking a long drink of the cool water.

 

“What’re you thinking?” Gabe said, looking at Steve carefully.

 

Steve took a deep breath, staring at the expensive carpet under his feet. “I don’t know. _I don’t know_.”

 

“Okay,” Gabe said, patting Steve’s back. “We’ll stay with you until Bucky comes up.”

 

Steve felt his heart thumping hard in his chest and he still couldn’t stop shaking. Gabe took the water bottle from his hand, putting the cap back on and setting it on the table in front of them.

 

“Is he…is he going to be angry at me? Because I…I shouldn’t have gone down there?”

 

Gabe sighed. “He’ll never be angry at you, Steve. If anything, he’ll want to know how you made it down to the garage in the first place.”

 

Steve inhaled sharply. “No, Gabe, no, don’t let Bucky take it out on anyone, okay? I don’t want anyone to get into trouble. I swear, no one said anything. I got in the elevator and I was about to go up to the office and I…I just changed my mind because I knew you’d all be down there and I brought dinner—“

 

“Hey, hey, Steve, it’s cool,” Morita said, shaking his head. “Bucky’s not going to take anything out on anybody. Just that next time you visit us at HQ, one of us will come down to meet you and escort you up, okay?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to take a calming breath. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble. I…I swear I won’t say anything about what I saw.”

 

“None of us are worried that you’re going to rat us out,” Gabe said, looking at him. “Bucky doesn’t worry about that, okay?”

 

Steve nodded, biting at his fingernails. “What’s…what about that guy? Dooley? What’s going to happen to him now?”

 

Gabe and Morita exchanged looks and then looked at Steve.

 

“You know that’s not something we can talk about with you,” Gabe said, kindly.

 

The elevator doors opened and Steve startled, jumping slightly at the sound of Bucky’s footsteps.

 

“Gabe, Morita, go down and help Tim,” Bucky said, waving for the boys to leave.

 

Steve swallowed, hands clenched together between his knees. He wasn’t sure if he could look at Bucky right now. He glanced up slightly to see Bucky standing nearby, but Steve hesitated to see what was on Bucky’s face.

 

Bucky waited until Gabe and Morita were both in the elevator, the doors sliding shut. He let out a long sigh and sat down next to Steve.

 

“How’re you doing, pal?”

 

Steve barked out a laugh. “I’m freaking out, Bucky, how do you think I’m doing?”

 

Bucky didn’t say anything and Steve dared a quick glance to look at Bucky’s face. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing that black biohazard jumpsuit anymore. He looked clean, but his dress shirt was rumpled and there was a dark red-black stain on the cuff of his shirt. There was a faint smell of gas and the lingering scent of fire. But he didn’t look angry; he looked exhausted, tense, and maybe a little scared. His eyes had a pinched look to them. Steve turned away and stared at his own hands.

 

“Buck, I always knew that you had to do things. I’m not stupid or naïve. But knowing and seeing you…what you did to that man in the garage…”

 

Steve breathed slowly as Bucky scooted across the leather couch towards him, a warm hand gentle on his back. Steve barely kept from flinching at his first touch, but his back muscles loosened slightly from the familiar warmth.

 

“In my business, it gets ugly, and there are things that I have to do.”

 

Steve frowned, turning to look at Bucky. “But—“

 

“I don’t enjoy hurting people, Steve,” he said, quietly.

 

“You don’t _have_  to do it, but you still do it.”

 

Bucky sighed. “This side of my business, it doesn’t concern you. You don’t understand what you saw. I always – _always_ – have a good reason for the things that I do.”

 

“Is that what you did to McCallister?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, simply. “I hurt him to find out exactly what I needed in order to protect the Barnes organization and my city.”

 

He turned to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Did you kill Sean McCallister?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He was a little shocked that Bucky gave him a truthful answer.

 

“How many people have you killed?”

 

“A lot. I have a lot of blood on my hands, but it was always a necessity of my business. I’ve never killed for fun or for sport. Is this something you can’t accept about me, Steve? I need to know.”

 

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, Bucky, but I saw you torturing a man. That was wrong. You have to know that.”

 

“Of course I know that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not a fucking sadist, okay? I don’t like this part of my work, but it’s a byproduct of the business that I run!”

 

Steve stared at him, clenching his teeth, pushing out his chin. “Don’t yell at me, Buck.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, lower his voice and taking a deep breath. “Look, Steve, I need to know that if you still want to be with me, then you need to be **_with_**  me, to the end of the line, eyes wide open. Because of who I am, and what I’m responsible for, **_I_**   can’t accept anything less than that from you.”

 

Steve looked into his blue eyes, saw nothing but absolute certainty there. Bucky wanted him; but he would let Steve go if Steve couldn’t accept him. He realized that the reason why he was freaking out so much was because he was falling in love with Bucky. Not just the Bucky of the neighborhood, but the whole man, with his best qualities…and the darkest parts of his nature.

 

He leaned across the short distance and kissed Bucky’s mouth. It was soft and tentative, testing the waters, and Bucky let out a soft sound of pleasure and pressed back against Steve’s lips, one of his hands coming up to curl gently through Steve’s hair.

 

That touch released something in Steve. He turned and straddled Bucky’s lap, sitting down on him, never once breaking the kiss. He put both of his hands into Bucky’s thick brown hair, pulling his head back and taking over the kiss, slipping his tongue between Bucky’s soft lips to taste and tangle with Bucky’s tongue.

 

Bucky’s hands moved over Steve, touching his back, curling around his hips, and slipping down over his ass, squeezing him tight.

 

“Fuck me, Bucky,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips, his arms clinging to Bucky’s neck and holding on to him with all of his strength.

  
Bucky groaned, tossing Steve onto his back on the cushions and getting to his feet.

 

“Get your clothes off,” he said, walking across the office to the private bathroom.

 

Steve wiggled out of his pants and shorts, tossing them to the floor. He kicked off his sneakers and tugged off his shirt. Bucky came back with lube and condoms, pulling off his necktie and undoing his dress shirt. Steve reached up for him, pulling Bucky down to his knees, looking up into Bucky’s steel blue eyes as Steve undid his pants, hand curling around Bucky’s cock.

 

Bucky pressed his hand on Steve’s chest and pushed him back on the couch, his damp back creaking against the leather. He took the condom packet from Bucky and ripped it open, slipping it over the tip of Bucky’s cock and sliding it down.

 

This wasn’t the time for foreplay; Steve was desperate, he wanted Bucky – needed Bucky to fuck him, right there on his office couch; needed to feel Bucky close to him, inside of him; to erase the cold inhuman façade Steve glimpsed on Bucky’s face in the garage.

 

Bucky kissed him, moving over Steve, hands grabbing him and holding him too hard, leaving bruises, panting breathlessly against Steve’s mouth, his neck.

 

Steve felt the coldness of the lube on Bucky’s fingers as they pressed against his hole, pushing in too fast and too rough, but it was still good. He grabbed hold of Bucky’s hips and pulled him down on him, meeting Bucky’s eyes.

 

“Come on, fuck me!”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky hissed, leaning to one side to coat his cock, gripping it at the base so he could push the head against Steve. “Just relax for me, baby—“

 

“I said fuck me,” Steve growled at him, wrapping his hand around Bucky and guiding him inside, arching his hips as the pain of the stretch made him grit his teeth and moan in the back of his throat. “God! Fuck—“

 

Bucky kissed him, pushing in slow and steady, pulling Steve’s hand away and tugging up Steve’s knees over his hips. “Come on, with me, baby? You with me?”

 

“Yes! Jesus, come on,” Steve said, eyes squeezed shut as he breathed through the rawness of it.

 

They both groaned, somewhere between pain and pleasure, as Bucky fucked into him with short, hard thrusts. Steve grabbed a handful of Bucky’s hair and tightened his knees around Bucky, twisting and undulating under Bucky’s weight to get to the position he needed. On his next stroke in, Steve moaned in shocked pleasure, his body trembling with how good it felt.

 

“Yes, Bucky, just like that,” Steve panted, pushing his hips up and moving with Bucky’s thrusts. “Just like that, yes, that’s good, just like that.”

 

Bucky pressed his teeth against Steve’s neck, panting wetly, gasping as he moved faster and grinding his hips as Steve tightened around him. “God, baby, you’re so good; so good, Stevie, so good.”

 

“Please,” Steve whined, one hand gripping the back of Bucky’s shirt, nearly pulling it off his shoulders. The other let go of Bucky’s hair and moved up to push against the couch arm. “Please!”

 

Bucky seemed to understand what Steve was pleading for; one hand shoving between their bellies, curling around Steve’s hard cock. He didn’t even need to stroke him, just feeling the friction of his calluses was enough, just enough, for Steve to get off.

 

He sucked in a breath and let out a long groan, throwing his head back and pushing up with his shoulders. He could feel his toes and his calf muscles cramping, but he chase after the lightning pleasure with selfish abandon.

 

Bucky wasn’t far behind, his rough breaths heating Steve’s skin, muffled keening against his throat. He shuddered against Steve, pushing him into the leather cushions, pushing the breath out of his lungs, until he let out a heavy choked sound.

 

“Fucking god,” Bucky groaned, rolling his forehead against Steve’s collarbone.

 

Steve inhaled through his opened mouth, his eyes fluttering. He felt bruised and heavy and unbelievably good. Bucky pressed kisses along his neck, up his jaw, to kiss his mouth, sloppy and wet, intermixed with soft moans and murmured words that Steve couldn’t understand.

 

Carefully, Bucky pulled out of him and Steve winced from the new soreness.

 

“Here, move on to your side,” Bucky whispered, turning Steve to his left and curling up behind him, strong arms keeping Steve secured to Bucky’s chest. They tangled their feet together. Steve noted, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they had kept their socks on. He giggled, snorting quietly, hiding his face against Bucky’s arm. “What’s so funny, pal?”

 

“Nothing…just…socks, you know?” Steve said, holding up one of his socked feet.

 

Bucky chuckled, sliding his lips across the nape of Steve’s neck. “You okay?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed. “I’m okay, Buck, _shesh_. Mother hen.”

 

He sank into Bucky’s warmth, holding onto him for as long as he could, knowing that he would have to get up. They would have to get up, go on with their lives. Bucky had…business downstairs and Steve needed to get home, think about what Bucky said, think about what he saw Bucky do, and figure out if this was something he could live with.

 

“Not yet,” Bucky whispered, holding Steve closer. “Just give me a little more and I’ll let you go, I swear.”

 

Steve felt the knot in his throat; he nodded, taking a deep breath.

 

“The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do was take care of you,” Bucky said, softly. “I’m not…I’m not always a good man and I may not always do what’s right, but…but I’ll always do what I can to make you happy, Steve. Do you believe me?”

 

“Yes,” he said, nodding against Bucky’s arm.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Steve sat up slowly, not really wanting to, and wasn’t surprised that Bucky let him go. He reached for his shorts, slipping his feet into the leg holes. He sighed, still feeling out of sorts, and pulled on his pants next.

 

“I should go,” he said, taking a deep breath.

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, his hand rubbing circles on Steve’s back. “I’m not going to force you to stay; it has to be your choice.”

 

“I know.”  He slipped his shirt over his head, moving his arms into the arm holes. “If I say no, I’m not going to be swimming in the East River, am I?”

 

Steve let out a soft chuckle, turning to smile at Bucky. But Bucky wasn’t laughing with him. He gave Steve a small, sad grin.

 

“Bucky…”

 

“I’d never hurt you for any reason. You’re my fella, my best pal, my favorite punk,” Bucky said, leaning up on his elbow to kiss Steve’s cheek. “I care about you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

 

Steve ducked his chin and smiled, looking up at Bucky. “I know; me, too.”

 

Bucky let out a little snort and nodded his chin to the elevators. “I’ll have one of the boys take you home. Call me when you want to see me.”

 

Steve stood up, slipping his feet into his shoes. He swallowed, his throat tight, but he pressed his lips together and forced himself to smile. This wasn’t the last time he was going to see Bucky, but it sure felt like it.

 

“Okay, Bucky, I’ll call you.”

 

***

 

**483 Clinton Avenue, Apartment #2**

 

“Thanks for the ride home, Pinky,” Steve said, getting out from the SUV.

 

Pinky grinned. “Don’t be a stranger, Rogers.”

 

He smiled, closing the door. He held up his hand and waved, then turned and walked into his apartment building. He knew Pinky would stay until Steve got safely inside. He turned at the door and waved at Pinky again, who waved back, and pulled the SUV slowly back onto the street.

 

Steve sighed, walking up the stairs to the second floor landing. He was still a little sore, but he liked the reminder. He was looking forward to taking a hot shower, letting the water work through some of his aches, and then slip under his cool sheets and go to sleep.

 

He turned from the stairs, heading for his door, when he saw the two tall men standing in the hallway.

 

“Steve Rogers?”

 

Steve felt the hairs on his back rise, his skin tingling. “Yeah? Can I help you, gents?”

 

“Mr. Alexander Pierce would like a word with you.”

 

“Who?”

 

One of the men chuckled, holding some kind of black fabric bag in his hand. “We think you know who we’re talking about.”

 

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, Rogers.”

 

Steve started walking backwards, staring up at them. “I don’t want no trouble.”

 

“Come on, now, this isn’t personal—shit, get him!”

 

Steve darted back to the stairs, but felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. He heard it rip, but Steve was determined. He used all of his strength to pull out of the man’s grip. He was given a hard hit to the side of his leg and Steve gasped in pain, falling to his hands.

 

The black hood was shoved over his head, taking his sight. Steve fought, trying to pull away. He let out a shout when he felt large hands grab his wrist, squeezing on the delicate bones. He felt the sharp edges of the plastic tie around his wrists and a hard hit on the back of his neck – then nothing.

 

***

 

**Undisclosed Location**

(MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: Steve gets tortured, off camera)

 

Ice cold water brought him awake and Steve gasped, finding himself handcuffed to some kind of metal frame. He was shirtless, his head swimming from the bright lights, his body shivering from the cold water.

 

A distinguished older man stepped into his view, an impersonal smile on his wrinkled lips.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Rogers. I’m Alexander Pierce,” he said, staring down at Steve. “I understand that this meeting isn’t under the best of circumstances. I wanted to assure you that this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Mr. James Barnes.”

 

Steve glared up at him, jerking on the cuffs around his wrists. There was no give to them; he was not going to get free.

 

“I’m such an admirer of your work,” Alexander continued, taking a deep breath. “And it’s unfortunate that your relationship with Mr. Barnes has brought you here this evening. He’s been an exceptionally annoying thorn in my side…and well, I’m afraid that I need to deal with him on a far more personal level.”

 

“Fuck you,” Steve said, narrowing his eyes at Alexander.

 

“Yes, well…I understand that you are extremely unhappy with your current position. I do apologize,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “My two colleagues will be spending some time with you tonight.”

 

He stepped away so that Steve could see the two men who had kidnapped him moving closer towards Steve. One of them pointed his camera phone at Steve, the other held some kind of black baton in his hand. Steve felt his entire body freeze, realizing what they were going to do to him.

 

Alexander nodded to the two men and walked towards the door.

 

“Hey!” Steve shouted after him. “Hey! You fucking coward! Fucking coward!”

 

“Settle down, Rogers,” the man with the baton said, his smile turning wolfish, dark eyes looking him over with sadistic pleasure. He held up the baton. “This is what we call a picana; very useful, these things.” He turned it on, the bronze tip at the end sparking with electricity. “Nasty little fucker, but extremely well made. High voltage, but low current. Delivers a hell of a shock, but it probably won’t kill you. If you’re lucky.”

 

Steve took a bracing breath, gritting his teeth.

 

He turned to the man with the camera phone. “You recording, Jack?”

 

“Whenever you’re ready, Brock.”

 

The one named Brock turned to smile at Steve. “You sure are a pretty thing, Rogers. Feel free to scream as loud and as long as you want.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Major Trigger Warning: Bucky and the Howling Commandos receive a video of Steve’s torture so there are some details of what happened to Steve but not a graphic scene-by-scene description). This chapter features Bucky and the Howling Commandos going to "war" with HYDRA but not in graphic detail, though there are a few on-screen deaths.

**PART 5: No Loose Ends**

 

**Sunset Park HQ**

 

Bucky was exhausted, it was nearing 2 AM, and after finishing up that nasty business with Ted Dooley, he was ready to just crash. He wanted a private moment to savor what he had with Steve; a part of him impatient and needy, wanting to go to Steve and taking comfort from him. But he promised Steve time to make a decision on their relationship and Bucky wasn’t going to ruin things by pressuring Steve. He needed to focus on the organization, they still needed to work through their day-to-day business; so much of their resources expended on getting all the justification that they needed in order to bring Dooley to justice.

 

“Are you listening, Bucky?”

 

He took a deep breath and grinned at Pinky. “Yeah, yeah, I’m paying attention, for fuck’s sake, Pink!”

 

The boys laughed softly as they gave Bucky sympathetic looks across the wide conference table.

 

Gabe walked into the office, his phone in his hand. “Everything’s taken care of. The disposal team took Dooley’s body out of HQ.”

 

Tim frowned. “Bastard’s going to get a better burial than he deserves.”

 

“Thanks, Gabe,” Bucky said, nodding to the other man.

 

“Sure, Boss,” he said, sitting down, making a funny look at his phone screen. “That’s a number I don’t recognize.”

 

“What—“

 

“Bucky, look here.” The younger man gave Bucky a look, green eyes narrowing slightly as he made sure that Bucky was looking at his laptop screen. “Okay. So, where was I? Oh yeah, right here—“

 

Pinky was taking Bucky through the tenth spreadsheet, and Bucky’s eyes were starting to glaze over from the endless rows of numbers. He wore a small smile on his lips as Pinky’s eyes lit up with elation, his voice loud and enthusiastic as he reported his weekly calculations on their overseas investments.

 

“—and you see right here, Bucky? This is where it gets really awesome. I mean, your commodities brokers in Asia are like making a huge fucking killing over there – and I’m not saying that they’re taking a bigger cut than they should, but they’re like taking 20% on their end before we get ours and I think we need to renegotiate their fee down to 15% which is really the standard percentage broker fee—“

 

“I’ve never met anyone who loves numbers as much as you do,” Falsworth teased, grinning at Pinky. “Seriously, luv, you have to balance my checkbook for me.”

  
“Aww, fuck off, Monty,” Pinky told him, making a face. He turned to look at Bucky again, inhaling deeply to make his next pitch. “Buck—“

 

Bucky chuckled. “Pink, we’re not cutting back on their broker fees.”

 

“I know, I know, but if you look at the earnings report from last quarter,” he jabbed his finger at his laptop screen at another spreadsheet, frowning slightly. “See right there? That could be like $250,000 in our pocket; and then if we leverage some of our international trades—“

 

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Gabe whispered, dropping his phone on the large conference table, his brown eyes lifting up to look at Bucky. “Boss…I…”

 

“What is it, Gabe?”

 

Gabe stared back at him, his mouth slightly open, a look of horror crossing his face. “Steve…”

 

Bucky tilted his head and frowned, looking at what looked like a video playing on the small screen. “What about Steve?”

 

_“You sure are a pretty thing, Rogers. Feel free to scream as loud and as long as you want.”_

 

He picked up the phone and stared at the image of Steve handcuffed to a metal bed, pale and wet, staring defiantly up at the camera. Bucky knew exactly what was going to happen next. He set the phone on the table and watched it.

 

_Listened to it._

 

Listened to Steve curse and cry out in shocked pain.

 

Listened to the two men laughing with sadistic delight.

 

Listened to Steve scream, his voice turning hoarse and rough and wet.

 

“Fuck,” Tim mumbled, leaning across the table and stopping the video.

 

The silence in the room was too long and terrible.

 

Falsworth threw his chair across the room, slamming it against the far wall, and he walked away, his hands on top of his head. “Bloody fucking hell.”  

 

Morita’s hands were clenched into fists, shaking on top of the table.

 

Gabe stared at his phone, his eyebrows pulled down tight, eyes glittering with anger.

 

“Shit,” Pinky whispered, standing up quick, knocking his chair to the floor. He face Bucky, looking scared shitless. “Bucky, I took him home. I swear I waited until he got inside. I didn’t know—I wouldn’t have let anyone—I would’ve died before I let them take him.”

 

Bucky swallowed down the bile building up in his mouth and he glanced at Pinky’s pale, terrified face. He was the last one to see Steve. If Bucky was another kind of man, he would make Pinky pay the price for his failure.

 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I swear—“

 

“They would’ve waited until you left before taking him,” Bucky said, reining in his fury. “They would’ve just killed you if you were with him. That’s what I would do.”

 

“I’d rather be dead than…” Pinky waved his hand to the phone. He curled his arms over his head and sank down on the table. “Ohmygod…ohmy _fucking_ god!”

 

Bucky stood, placed his hands flat on the table and stared at Tim. “Play it all the way through, Tim.”

 

“No, Bucky, you shouldn’t—“

 

“I said play it. I won’t ask you again.”

 

Tim reached his hand and tapped the screen, resuming the video. Bucky watched it all, watched Steve suffer. He watched when Steve lost control of his bladder. He watched as Steve’s body jerked hard against the metal bedframe, his thin body convulsing uncontrollably from the excruciating pain of electricity running through his body, limbs pulled taut.

 

He watched them shove the shock stick inside of Steve’s mouth.

 

_“Fuck, he passed out again,” one of the men said, smirking into the camera. “Get the hose.”_

 

“That’s Brock Rumlow,” Morita said, his voice shaking with rage. “I’ll bet my left arm that the fucker holding the camera is Jack Rollins.”

 

Bucky clenched his teeth and felt every emotion withdraw into a dark hole, leaving behind only cold rage. He went still all over; whatever was left of him disappeared and _something  else_  took its place. Something dark, cold, and ruthless. He shed his Bucky Barnes human flesh for a person he hadn’t been in a long time. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and he remembered the scent of gun oil and metal, the particular ozone smell of a bullet casing, the fresh tang of blood.

 

He turned and started walking out of the office when Morita, Gabe, and Pinky grabbed him.

 

“Boss, where are you going?” Morita called, getting to his feet, looking at the others. “The fuck is he going?”

 

“Get him,” Tim ordered, all of them moving quickly to intercept Bucky. “Whoa, there, Buck, let’s not rush into this.”

 

Bucky stared at him, recognizing Tim Dugan as his closet friend and right hand, but he narrowed his eyes as the boys held him back.

 

“I’m going to suit up and I’m going after them. All of them,” Bucky said, as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

 

“Not alone, Boss,” Morita told him, his arm curled around Bucky’s chest. “Not without us.”

 

“This is what they want you to do,” Tim said, urgently. He didn’t have to say that they took Steve to draw Bucky out into the open.

 

Bucky took a steadying breath and nodded slowly. Tactically, it would be foolish for him to go out there alone, not when HYDRA would be expecting him. And they would be expecting him; they sent that video of Steve for a very specific emotional response. They would know that seeing Steve tortured would break him, push all sense of logic and strategy from his mind. They wanted him to make an emotional decision and to go tearing after Steve, alone, undefended, and without a plan. They were counting on him to make that mistake; to leave himself wide open in order to gun him down, kill his men, and take their home.

 

“Get all the men, every Howling Commando, get them here now and open the armory and get them outfitted,” Bucky said, his voice low. “Talk to every snitch, every informant, every girl that we have working in the organization, hunt down anything that they’ve heard on the streets about HYDRA and about Pierce—“

 

“I will,” Tim said, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Steve—“

 

“This isn’t just about Steve anymore,” he said, looking at the boys. “This is war. They’ve crossed the line coming into our territory, our _home_ , and taking one of ours.”

 

Morita, Gabe, and Pinky nodded, staring at Bucky, awaiting their orders like the foot soldiers that they were.

 

“Call in Romanoff and Barton,” he said, taking a deep, fortifying breath. It felt like ice in his throat, running through his veins. He turned to look at Pinky. “How long has it been since you last saw Steve?”

 

“I dropped him off around ten—it’s been four hours,” Pinky said, thickly. “Do you think they’ve been…this whole time?”

 

“Yes,” he said, plainly. “Pull it together, Pinky. I need everyone focused on war, not on Steve.”

 

 ** _He_**   would focus on Steve. Steve was _his_  mission.

 

Bucky nodded to them, pushing himself free of the boys, and walking back into his office for the conference table.

 

“That’s the start of our timeline, 10 PM, four hours down,” he said, flipping through the various documents on the table. He pulled out a large map of New York City, shaking his head. “Get me a map of Jersey, closest to New York.”

 

He watched as the boys moved methodically, clearing off the table of their business. Morita picked up the map tubes from the shelves, bringing them to the table. He looked at the labels and slipped his fingers inside the thick cardboard to pull out a large paper, unrolling it carefully. Gabe and Pinky placed heavy objects on the corners, keeping it from rolling back up.

 

“We know that HYDRA has taken control of the coast, all the way from Ocean City up to Jersey City,” Bucky said, tracing his fingers along the New Jersey coastline. “They’re not headquartered in the AC though; they want New York, so they’re up here in Jersey City.”

 

“One stop from Staten Island,” Tim murmured, nodding slowly. “Gateway into the boroughs. There’s talk that HYDRA started to move into Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

Bucky made a noise in agreement. “That means that they’re going to have facilities around Jersey City, close enough to have the means to make an attack into Manhattan and then into Brooklyn, Bronx, and Queens. If Brooklyn falls, the others go down with us.”

 

“We hold the line,” Gabe said, looking up at Bucky.

 

“You hold the line, protect our rear and our flank,” he said, nodding. “We’ll take the rest into New Jersey and take HYDRA down.”

 

“And get Steve back,” Pinky whispered, swallowing thickly. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Bucky.”

 

Bucky nodded, grimly. He reached his hand out to grab Pinky’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will. You’d do it for any one of us.”

 

“The room in the video looked to be stripped down, just concrete walls and floor,” Morita said, looking at Bucky. “Early 80s industrial buildings have concrete foundations.”

 

“He could be in a warehouse or some kind of basement,” Tim said, nodding slowly.

 

“Pull up the video again,” Bucky said, looking at Gabe.

 

Gabe swallowed, picking up his phone and replaying the video with the sound muted. They looked at the screen again, looking at the background, looking for any clue that would give them a better idea of the location. Bucky forced himself to ignore what was happening to Steve. It wasn’t the time to let his emotions get in the way of the mission.

 

“There, that was a window, didn’t see any lights through the glass, though,” Morita murmured, sliding the phone towards him, pressing his finger on the screen to move the timer back a few seconds.

 

Bucky looked at the maps again. “If they took him to a warehouse or commercial or industrial building, then they’re somewhere here.”

 

He traced his fingers around the Kearny Yard by the railroad tracks, across the Hackensack River.

 

“Get a few teams to scout this area,” Bucky said, looking at Tim. “Reconnaissance only, do not engage without back up. I want them to report in on this industrial area for activity.”  

 

“Me and Gabe will call in the boys,” Tim said, pulling his phone from his pocket and stepping away from the table. “Have them talk to our people on the streets.”

 

“Morita, take Pinky and ready the armory,” Bucky told him. He raised his head to see Falsworth standing with his arms crossed. “Monty, call Dernier, tell him that we’re going to need everything he has.”

 

Falsworth nodded, pulling his phone from the back of his jeans.

 

“Men, I want to be _very_   clear,” Bucky said, watching as all the boys stopped to look at him. “This is not a negotiation. HYDRA will be burned to the ground. We’re not taking any prisoners. I don’t need to talk to Alexander Pierce. If you capture him, then put a bullet in his head. But I want Rumlow and Rollins taken alive; undamaged, if you can. I want you to save them for me; keep them intact and alive. I’ll have plans for them later.” He met the eyes of each of his men, finding nothing but steadfastness and readiness for a blood war. “You have your orders.”

 

***

 

It was 7 AM when Bucky gave his marching orders to the ten team leaders of the Howling Commandos. Nine hours down; nine hours since Steve was taken. He believed that Steve had a core of steel inside, enough will and sheer stubbornness to stay alive, even if it was to spit in Bucky’s face and tell him to fuck off for getting Steve in the middle of this.  

 

Bucky watched as the men geared up, checked their weapons. There was a hum of energy in the hallway as the dozens of his foot soldiers mentally prepared for war. He walked among them, down the hallway, as groups of men waited for the dozens of delivery trucks slowly made their way into the garage.

 

He would’ve preferred to wait until nightfall, to go in under the cover of darkness, but he didn’t want to hold off; he didn’t want to give HYDRA any more time to prepare. And the clock was running down on Steve’s survival the longer it took Bucky and his men to get into the fight.

 

“—want to see him right the fuck now!”

 

Bucky walked back down the hall when he heard the commotion. He motioned for Tim to find out what was going on in the hallway. He frowned, narrowing his eyes when he saw Sam Wilson trying to push his way past the four guards to get into the building.

 

“Hey, hey, Wilson, what’s going on?” Tim said, keeping his voice low and friendly.

 

“I want to see him, Dugan. Where’s Barnes? Barnes!”

 

Bucky walked closer towards them. “What’re you doing here, Sam?”

 

“Barnes! You motherfucker! You did this!” Sam shouted, trying to push past Tim, his arm stretched out and a finger pointed at him. “If he’s dead because of you, I’ll fucking cut off your head myself!”

 

The men in the room turned, their weapons pointed at Sam at his threat.

 

“Weapons down,” Bucky shouted, pushing through the men towards Tim and Sam. “Are you fucking insane, Wilson? Coming into my territory and threatening in me front of my men?”  

 

Sam pulled out his phone and held it up in front of Bucky’s face. “How about the fact that some motherfucker has kidnapped Steve! I got a video of him being tortured! This is because of you, isn’t it!”

 

“I’m taking care of it,” he told him, sharply.

 

Sam stared at him and then looked around the room to see all the men geared up, weapons in their hands, ready for war. Bucky watched as Sam inhaled deep, standing up straight, dark eyes focused on Bucky as he centered himself.

 

“I have snitches on the streets, people in Jersey, all throughout the neighborhoods. I have ears on the ground, people I trust to get intel to you in real time,” Sam said, his voice tense. “You’re not going in without me, Barnes.”

 

Bucky looked at Steve’s best friend; Sam Wilson was former military pararescue and an experienced field soldier. He had Gabe do the usual background check on Wilson and Bucky respected and admired him. Sam was thrumming with the same kind of energy that Bucky remembered in his teammates before going out on their missions.

 

“This is a wet op, Wilson, do you understand?”

 

“I understand,” Sam hissed at him.

 

“You’re with me; but don’t get in my way,” he said, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Gear up in the armory. Be ready in five. Show him, Tim.”

 

Sam nodded, his upper lip still curled in disgust. He wasn’t going to follow Bucky out of any desire to help in his war, he was going for Steve, and that was all Bucky needed to know.

 

***

 

Bucky walked into his office and stood in front of the large bookcase. He placed his hand on the discreet lever, pushing it down and then sliding the bookcase to the left to reveal a small anteroom behind it.

 

The auto lights flickered on and Bucky stared at the entire wall holding his favorite weapons – COP 357 Magnum pistol, Intratec TEC-38 pistol, SIG Sauer P220ST, CZ Vz 61E Skorpion submachine gun, Gerber Mark II blades, Gerber Yari Tanto blades, Colt M203 A1 grenade launcher, K6 advanced street tactical grenades, FN MK13 grenade launcher, Dragunov SVD-63 sniper rifle, AR15 M4A1 rifle, Glock 19 pistol, SIG Sauer P226R pistol, Strider VB blades, Steyr SAI-M40 handgun – and ran his hands over his beloved sniper rifle. He had customized the Dragunov himself, perfected her weight and scope, with her cheek piece fitting against his face like a long time lover, and he never missed his target with her.

 

He would need to clean and oil the Dragunov before he took her out on his mission. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, opening the cabinet that held his old tactical gear. He stripped down to his briefs and slid on the black under armor suit. Over that, he pulled on black utility pants, thick socks, and pushed his feet into the sturdy boots. He laced them carefully, tucking the hem of his pants into the boots, and pushed the laces under the tongue to keep them out of the way.

 

He stood up and looked at the tactical vest hanging in the cabinet. He pulled out the leather bulletproof vest, carefully slipping it on and pulling on the lightweight straps, buckling it on. He took a deep breath, pressing his hands on his chest, stomach, and back to ensure the best fit. He moved his arms and bent over, testing the flexibility of the tac vest against his body.

 

He stood up again and pulled on his weapons belt, sorting through his collection of weapons and ammo and putting them in their specific place. He selected four of his Gerber blades, two grenades, two smoke bombs, two handguns, and his mask. He opened a box and slipped his fingers into black war paint, smearing them around his eyes. He was specially trained to be **_the_**  Asset, a one-man army, surgical strike, tactical strike, no survivors.

 

“It’s been a long time. I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again,” Tim said, softly.

 

Bucky turned, eyes focused on Tim. “Pray that this is the last time anyone sees the Winter Soldier.”

 

He pulled on his mask and buckled it behind his head. It covered half of his lower face, the last of Bucky Barnes hidden away.  

 

“Let’s go.”

 

***  

 

Twelve hours later, the HYDRA Compound was destroyed, half of Jersey City decimated and burning, thanks to Dernier’s explosives. Bucky, his Howling Commandos, and Sam tore through the basement levels of the warehouses by the rail yards, looking for an on-ground concrete area that had small windows looking out at the industrial complex.

 

Morita let out a shrill whistle, waving his hand for Bucky’s attention. “Boss, I think this is it. It’s locked, but there’s someone behind this door.”

 

He showed the screen of the small handheld heat sensor to Bucky. There was a small form in the room behind the metal door.

 

“Blow it, Jacques,” Bucky said, stepping aside for the Frenchman to set his sophisticated explosives against the hinges and the locking mechanism.

 

“Fire in the hole!” Dernier shouted, all of them taking cover against the wall as Dernier set off the contained explosives.  

 

Hot air whooshed through the hallway, the door thrown across the hallway to land on the floor.

 

Bucky went in first, slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. He saw a small, naked body curled up in the corner of the dank, cold room, his back facing the doorway.

 

“Steve?” He called, gently, pulling off his mask. “Stevie?”

 

“Someone get a blanket!” Sam yelled in the hallway. “Find something we can use to cover him in!”

 

“Is it him? Is it Steve?” Pinky called back from the other end. Bucky heard footsteps coming towards the room and he turned, glaring at Morita to keep whoever it was out.

 

“Don’t go in there, Pink,” Morita said, holding him back. “It’s him.”

 

“Ohmygod, please tell me that he’s alive,” Pinky said, his voice tight with emotion.

 

“Boss is checking on him, hang back.”

 

Bucky knelt next to Steve, watching as he whimpered, moving closer to the wall, curling his thin, naked legs towards his chest protectively. He wanted to stroke his dirty, wet hair, but he knew Steve wasn’t ready to be touched. His eyes looked at the multitude of bruises that covered his back and side, dried blood crusted on various cuts. They’d tortured him with the picana; beat him with their fists; and god only knew what they used to cut him. The cuts looked shallow, but Bucky was worried about infection setting in now.

 

“Steve? It’s me, Bucky.”

 

“Bucky?” Steve whispered, lifting his head and turning to look over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s Bucky.”

 

Steve’s face was black and blue with bruises, blood still dripping from the cut above his eye, leaving a thin red trail down the side of his face to his chin, his lips busted and dry. Bucky would chase down and kill every HYDRA asshole for what happened to Steve.

 

A swollen blue eye slid over at him.

 

“Bucky?” He said, his voice a little more alert, alive.

 

Bucky wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him – but with the way that Steve was still clinging to the wall even after acknowledging Bucky’s presence, he knew he had to give Steve space.

 

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.”

 

“You look different,” he murmured, tiredly.

 

“Yeah, well, there was a war,” he said, plainly.

 

Steve turned, his good eye blinking. “You done now?”

 

“Yeah. I’m going to get you out of here,” Bucky said, turning his head sharply, his defenses up, when he heard someone step into the room.

 

“For Steve,” Sam said, tossing a rough-worn, patchy furniture covering into Bucky’s hands. “Best I could find.”

 

Bucky nodded to him gratefully and spread open the fabric, moving closer to Steve slowly, his heart breaking when Steve flinched away from him, tucking his face against his shoulder.

 

“Come on, Steve, it’s cold outside,” he murmured, coming a little closer to put the covering over Steve’s bared shoulders. “Think you can get up?”

 

Steve trembled against Bucky’s hands, but he nodded. “I’m gonna need some help, Buck.”

 

Bucky helped Steve to his unsteady feet as he pulled the fabric all the way around him, bundling him up tightly.

 

“Anything broken? I can carry you out of here—“

 

“I can make it out on my own feet,” Steve said, gritting his teeth, tough Brooklyn boy coming out.

 

Bucky nodded, not taking Steve’s decision away from him. If he wanted to walk out on his own, chin held up, then Bucky was going to walk out beside him and be there to catch him if Steve fell.

 

“Come on, I got transport waiting for us.”

 

He watched as Steve took a few tentative steps, testing the strength in his legs. His hands were still shaking, fisted in the covering as he kept himself covered up. Steve took a deep, bracing breath and looked up to see Sam and the other Howling Commandos waiting for him in the hallway.

 

“Hey, Steve,” Sam said, nodding his head, dark eyes wet with relief and pride.

 

“Hi, Sam,” Steve said, a tired smile on his lips. “Bucky put you up to this?”

 

Sam grinned. “You know I’d never leave a man behind.”

 

“Okay, Sam,” Steve said, softly.

 

Bucky followed sedately, watching Steve’s back, as the men greeted Steve one by one, turning, waiting for Steve to pass them. It was early evening, the sun was just starting to go down, and Steve flinched as his eyes adjusted to the light and the bite of the wind. Morita had driven one of the black SUVs closer and he held the back door open, waiting patiently for Steve to make it towards him.

 

He reached out to help Steve, but Steve flinched, shaking his head and waving Morita away. Bucky was glad that Morita understood and didn’t make a move to touch Steve. Bucky would hate to have to cut off Morita’s hand for his mistake.

 

“I got it,” Steve said, one hand gripped the top of the door and climbing up into the back seat, letting out a painful groan as he settled into the leather.

 

“You all right?” Bucky said, looking in on him.

 

“I’m just going to lie down for a sec, okay, Bucky?” Steve said, curling on his side, tucking his arms and legs under the covering.

 

“Boss, Dum Dum has something you want to see,” Morita said, quietly. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Steve.”

 

“I’ll be right back, pal.”

 

Steve didn’t respond, his were eyes closed, his face pinched in exhaustion and pain.

 

Bucky nodded, slipping out of the back seat as Morita moved the door closed but not shutting it all the way. He walked back into the warehouse and scanned the area for Tim.

 

“Boss!” Tim shouted, holding up his hand and letting out a whistle.

 

He made his way through the throng of dead bodies and pools of blood and gore that littered the warehouse floor to where Tim and a few dozen of his Commandos were standing guard around three men. A slender, hooded figure stood with their back to Bucky, chatting amiably with Tim.  

 

A hand reached up to pull off their black hood, the shock of her richly hued red hair a beacon in the dull warehouse. Bucky smiled, looking at Natasha, her other hand holding Alexander’s silk necktie like a choke leash.

 

“Nat,” he said, greeting her with a nod of respect.

 

“Look at what I caught in my little spider web,” she murmured, lips curved into a smug smile.

 

“Barnes, you’re making a mistake,” Alexander said, looking up at him, blue eyes flashing with fear. “We’re HYDRA, you cut off one head and two—“

 

Natasha tugged hard on the necktie, her knee braced against the back of Alexander’s neck.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I step on your moment?” She asked, smiling delightedly down at the red-faced Alexander, choking on her makeshift noose.

 

Bucky grinned at her. “To the victor goes the spoils; he’s all yours, darling. Kill him however you like.”

 

Natasha chuckled. “ _Awww_ …you’re so sweet, Bucky.” She glanced down at Alexander, easing off on her choke hold, giving the older man a moment to take a few panicked breaths. “So what do you think? Fast or slow?”

 

“He’s old, make it fast,” he said, derisively. He looked over at the two men on their knees. “We’ll go slow with those two.”

 

She raised her eyebrow and pulled out her pistol, pointing it at the back of Alexander’s head.

 

Alexander tried to struggle, looking up at Bucky. “Barnes, don’t do this! I can be of use to you! You know—“

 

He watched as Natasha pulled the trigger, most of Alexander’s face erupted in blood and bone and brain splatter.

 

“Boring conversation anyway,” she said, pleased with herself. Some of the Howling Commandos chuckled at her favorite _Star  Wars_  reference. Somewhere in the rafters, Bucky thought he heard Clint laughing with them.

 

Bucky nodded to her, then faced Rumlow and Rollins. They looked ready to piss themselves.

 

“Did you get Steve out?” Tim said, his face contorted into something mixed with rage and worry.

 

“He’s safe,” Bucky told him, nodding. He flicked his gaze down at the two men, who would not be men for much longer. They were meat bags, less than animals in a slaughterhouse. Bucky would show them the excruciating delights of his secret abattoir.

 

It was true that he didn’t enjoy torture out of sadistic pleasure; Bucky Barnes didn’t have a stomach for it. He understood how to command fear and pain to get what he needed; and he always made sure to perform his interrogations in front of one of his Howling Commandos. It ensured that Bucky never took it too far, that he held the line to his humanity.

 

But that was Bucky Barnes.

 

The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, relished bloodshed and killing. He was born from the atrocities of war; taught to enjoy his kills and he had a deep sense of pride in every successful mission. He could do what most people could not even imagine in their worst nightmares. The Winter Soldier didn’t know mercy; and it was the Winter Soldier who stared at the two bags of meat in front of him.

 

“Natasha, you’ll join me, won’t you?”

 

She sidled up beside him, a warm smile on her red lips. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

“Keep them alive, Tim, don’t let them try to push you to kill them; don’t let them try to commit suicide.”

 

Tim frowned. “Bucky—“

 

“Transport them to the abattoir, prep them, and then leave,” he ordered, his voice was implacable. “Nat, you go with them, make sure everything is ready for me. Don’t start without me. I’ll be mad.”

 

She inclined her head with a polite nod.

 

“Tim?” He said, raising his eyebrow.

 

“Yes, sir,” Tim said, nodding quickly, motioning for his men to get to their duties.

 

Rumlow and Rollins tried to struggle as Tim and the men pulled them to their feet, taking them to the black vans on the other side of the warehouse. Bucky ignored their screams and their threats as he left the building, seeing Morita standing guard by the SUV.

 

“How is he?”

 

Morita took a relieved breath. “Resting. His breathing is really shallow, though, sounds like he’s got some cracked or broken ribs. He needs urgent medical care.”

 

Bucky climbed into the back of the SUV and nodded to Morita. “Don’t worry, Steve will get the best medical care that I can get for him. Let’s go, Morita.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Morita said, shutting the door and rounding the front of the SUV to the driver side.

 

Bucky ran his hand gently over Steve’s hair, gloved fingers caressing a pale patch of skin by his temples. Rumlow and Rollins had really worked him over in the worst way, but Steve was a survivor. Bucky was right, Steve had a core of steel, a stubborn streak and a will to live a thousand miles wide.

 

He’d make sure that Steve was taken care of on his way to recovery. He’d make sure that Steve had the best doctors, the best counselors, the best of everything and anything. If he needed it, then Bucky would get it for him.

 

And in the meantime, Bucky would have to finish his business with Rumlow and Rollins. He’d need to shed the Winter Soldier and allow Bucky Barnes to come back to Steve.

 

“Knew you’d come for me, Bucky,” Steve whispered, his eyes still closed. He slipped his hand free of the covering and grasped Bucky’s fingers, tucking their hands under his chin.

 

“To the end of the line.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical evaluation post-torture, Mention of potential sexual assault, Recovery from Torture, PTSD, Implied torture of the bad guys - It's not graphic, but all of these elements exist in this chapter of the story.

**PART 6: After Winter Comes Spring**

**Barnes Mansion**

**Squabble Lane**

**Southampton, Long Island**

 

“I can’t thank you enough for your assistance,” Bucky said, standing in front of the large flat screen monitor, hands on his hips, as he nodded to the older man on the screen.

 

_Bucky couldn’t leave Steve at a hospital with unknown medical professionals and call attention to Steve’s injuries. Instead, he’d called in the one favor owed to him and had spoken to a man who wouldn’t ask questions and who would send his private and extremely discreet medical team via helicopter to the Barnes mansion in the Hamptons._

 

_The two doctors and emergency care nurse spoke softly to Steve, compassion in their voices and nothing but professionalism in their touch. They told him everything that they were going to do, waiting patiently for Steve to consent. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, looking off to the walls of the bedroom as the doctors questioned him, gave him a round of antibiotics, cleaned and stitched his deeper wounds, hydrated him with several IV bags, kept him relatively free of pain, and bandaged and dressed his numerous bruises and lesions due to electrical burns from the picana._

_Bucky hovered protectively, watching with sharp eyes as the doctors gently touched Steve, the knives he tucked on his person within easy reach if Bucky felt that they had taken advantage of Steve. Dum Dum and Morita finally had to drag Bucky out of the bedroom when the doctors insisted on privacy._

 

_“Boss! Some things are better left in the hands of the professionals,” Morita insisted._

_Dum Dum gave him a long, stern look. “Give Rogers some fucking dignity, Buck. Let the doctors check him. No one in that room is going to hurt Steve.”_

 

_The doctors checked Steve for signs of sexual assault and injury while Bucky seethed, waiting outside in the hallway, waiting to know the true extent of Steve’s injuries, and how much payback he was going to inflict on Rumlow and Rollins for what they did to Steve. For every hour that they had Steve, they would suffer the same number in days. He trusted Natasha to keep them alive and healthy, waiting for his visit, but after his vigil by Steve’s side._

 

_“Mr. Rogers is sleeping comfortably now; we’ve given him a small amount of morphine to help him with his pain management. We’ve left him a muscle relaxer, Percocet, and Tylenol-3 – read the directions prior to giving him the medicine. He needs to take in fluids and he needs to eat, start with easy to digest foods such as soup or soft rice or oatmeal. Mr. Rogers is resilient, his wounds will heal, but it will take time. His bandages and dressings need to be kept dry and changed every day until the legions and burns heal. We need to keep an eye out for any signs of infection,” the doctor told him, voice solemn. “You can go back into the room and stay with him, Mr. Barnes, but I recommend you give him some breathing room.”_

_He nodded, meeting the doctor’s eyes. “Was he sexually assaulted?”_

_“We were not able to determine the extent of his assault. Mr. Rogers asked us to not touch him and we did not. He allowed for a visual examination, but we didn’t see any external signs of sexual assault. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t suffer at his captors’ hands – if not physically, then certainly the threat of sexual assault during his torture. If he has any difficulty with urination or bowel movements, if there’s any blood presented, you’ll call us immediately.” The doctor sighed and ran a hand across his tired face. “You don’t need me to tell you that he’s been brutalized; torture is insidious, the physical pain will fade and the body will heal, but it will take much longer to deal with the sadistic torment inflicted on his mind and on his emotions. To be honest, he may not be ready to deal with the realities of his injuries. I don’t think you should push it, let Mr. Rogers make that decision for himself. It’s my recommendation that Mr. Rogers meets with a qualified therapist to discuss his capture. We’ve taken blood, urine, and saliva samples; if anything comes up in the labs, we’ll notify Mr. Rogers and you immediately.”_

_He wasn’t reassured and Bucky’s imagination made him play out horrific scenes of Steve’s abuse, but it was the best answer he was going to get. He sighed and nodded. “Thank you for helping him.”_

_“We’ll return in three days to check on Mr. Rogers,” the doctor said, gripping Bucky’s shoulder with a strong, firm hand. “You need your rest, too, Mr. Barnes, if you’re going to be there for him.”_

 

_Bucky never left Steve’s side for the first three days that Steve rested. Bucky read to him; left the radio playing a Mets game; and held his hand gently. He helped Steve with his soup, gave him his medicine, and talked about his sisters. Bucky left the Barnes organization in the capable hands of his trusted people while he watched over Steve._

**_Steve_ ** _was his mission. To the end of the line. He had made that promise and he intended to keep his promise to Steve._

 

Tony Stark grinned on the screen, brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Never let it be said that a Stark doesn’t know what a man will do for love.”

 

“No one hurts what’s mine,” he said, looking up at Tony.

 

He didn’t mean for it to sound as cold and as possessive as it did, but considering that he felt that everyone who lived in Brooklyn as his – his to protect, his to love – well, shit, maybe he had to face the fact that he took his entire organization into a war for Steve.

 

“Damn, Barnes, remind me to never piss you off. Taking down Pierce and HYDRA the way that you did, you just put a huge red target on your organization’s back – law enforcement agencies, government agencies, rival families…” Tony whistled, raising his eyebrows.

 

Bucky gave a wry huff and leaned against the edge of his desk.

 

“How is Steve doing?”

 

“Much better. He’s recovering, physically, but he doesn’t want to talk much or eat or sleep enough; he has nightmares.”

 

Tony made a sympathetic murmur. “If you need me to send my shrink, someone you can trust, I can do that, too.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind; that should be Steve’s choice, after everything that he’s gone through…” Bucky breathed out, shaking his head. “I want to protect him, but I know that I can be very…”

 

_Possessive. Protective. Overbearing. Single-minded. Ruthless._

 

He watched as Tony gave a soft chuckle, stroking his hand down his neatly trimmed goatee. “Aren’t we all built the same? Men in our business.”

 

“Yeah, something like that.” He took a deep breath and looked up at Tony. “Speaking of business, I have a proposal for you.”

 

“Hold that thought, Buckaroo. Let me start off by saying good work keeping HYDRA out of Manhattan. My hat’s off to the Barnes organization.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, wryly. “I’m more than willing to divide up HYDRA territory with you.”

 

“Looking to expand into New Jersey?”

 

“Actually, I’m going to divide up my share with my men, give them a chance to start their own families.”

 

Tony gave Bucky a very shrewd look. “But they remain loyal to you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Strategic,” Tony murmured, nodding approvingly. “I’m not looking to expand outside Manhattan beyond what I already own. Counter proposal?”

 

Bucky was surprised. “I’m listening.”

 

“Partnership as equals, a long-term investment between us,” he said, smiling widely. “I’d rather have you as a partner than as a future rival, Barnes.”

 

Bucky chuckled, biting his bottom lip. “Strategic.”

 

He considered it, though, as it was a sound idea. The Stark organization was big time, full into technology and innovation, military contracts, and more legitimate than criminal. When Tony took over the family, he sold off his criminal businesses and spent his time cleaning out his organization and turning an eye to technological innovations.  

 

“Let me talk it over with the boys first, give me a couple of weeks.”

 

Tony grinned, nodding. “I’ll even incentivize things for you, Buck; I can keep law enforcement out of your town and off your back.”

 

“What’s your price?”

 

“I know you’d never ask me to help in your troubles, Barnesy, but let me pay you back; let this be the favor that you’d never ask me for.”

 

“You helped me with Steve, that evens us up in my book.”

 

“That’s something I’d do for a friend. Be my partner, let me help you in this way, and then we’ll be even in both of our books. Clean slate.” Tony let out a darkly amused chuckle. “Think of what people will say when the Stark and Barnes boys take over the Eastern Seaboard – and that’s just the beginning of our _beautiful_  friendship, Bucky.”  

 

_Everyone knew the Stark name._

_Tony’s father, Howard Stark, was a smart man, tough and unyielding. He ruled Manhattan with an iron hand, from the stories that Bucky’s father used to tell him, and Howard wore the mantel as the head of his organization with aplomb._

_Howard grew up on the lower east side. His father sold fruit and his mother was a seamstress. He didn’t climb out of poverty without picking up some interesting habits. He was a child of gritty old New York City and rose out of the tenements with both brains and brawn._

_His right hand man was Obadiah Stane, another roughrider who grew up with Howard, and together they blazed their way through progressive midtown and up to the gentrified upper echelons of Manhattan. When Tony was a teenager, Howard and his wife Maria died in an unexplained car accident. The organization expected that Obadiah would step in, but he didn’t take Howard’s place. Instead, he stood at Tony’s side, helping him claim his right to the Stark legacy._

 

_“I trusted him,” Tony said, harshly._

_Bucky knew that Tony loved Obadiah like a second father; the man had practically raised him, paid attention to him when Howard was too busy with his businesses to consider Tony as anything but a selfish boy born into too much wealth and power and influence. For years, Tony never suspected that Obadiah had Howard and Maria killed. It was only when Obadiah started to make a move to taking Tony out that Tony couldn’t deny he was headed to an early, unmarked grave._

_“How many bodies do you think are decomposing under the East River?”_

_Bucky shrugged. “A fair share, I suppose.”_

_“Your old man put his fair share in the water.”_

_“He wasn’t the only one.”_

_It was no secret that Bucky worked up the ranks like any Barnes organization soldier; that he took on the role of the family Enforcer for a time._

_“I can’t kill Obi myself. He’s not blood, but he shed enough for me through the years, and that still counts for something. But what he did – not killing my father, that’s just part and parcel of this business – but my mother? Killing her. That’s unforgivable,” Tony said, looking at Bucky. “You think I’m a coward, Barnes?”_

_“No,” he said, sitting down next to Tony on the steps in front of Jane’s Carousel, looking across the East River towards midtown Manhattan. He looked at the new construction of Stark Tower going up, the naked skeleton of the building’s tall, elegant, and imposing framework rising to the skies. That would be Tony’s new headquarters; a high-tech monstrosity announcing the rise of Tony Stark to the world. “I’d want to do the same if someone even looked at my ma funny. But if you want it done, then you need to ask me to do it.”_

_Tony’s fingers tapped at the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nostrils, and he turned to look at Bucky, meeting his eyes. Bucky saw regret and sadness and anger in the older man’s eyes. But his face was lined with resolve and determination; Bucky didn’t have any doubts that Tony would ask._

_“I want you to kill Obadiah Stane. Make him disappear. I don’t want a trace of him left behind.”_

_Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I want one favor in return.”_

_“Name it.”_

_He smiled, shaking his head. “I’ll hold on to that favor until I need to use it. Someday, I’ll come to you and ask you to do something for me in return. You won’t ask any questions and you’ll help me with what I need.”_

_“You can’t expect me to let you hold something like that over my head.”_

_“I promise you that the favor I ask, it won’t hurt you or anyone you love.”_

_“I don’t like being in debt to anyone,” Tony said, taking a deep breath. “Whatever favor you’re going to ask from me, don’t wait too long.”_

_Bucky gave a wry grin. “I swear on my ma’s soul that I won’t take advantage of our new friendship.”_

_Tony flicked the burning embers off the tip of his cigarette and tucked the filter into his mouth, holding it between his teeth. He held out his hand._

_“I accept.”_

_“I’ll make arrangements and put the play in motion.”_

_They shook on it. A devil’s deal between two men who didn’t believe in God or Satan._

 

Bucky grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, Tony, we’ll consider your offer carefully. Thank you.”

 

“Good,” he said, smirking. “Take care of your boy.”

 

“I’ll come see you in a couple of weeks and we’ll work out the details. In the meantime, I’ll have Tim divvy up New Jersey. Let me know if there’s anything you’re interested in.”

 

Tony snorted, rolling his eyes. “In Jersey?” He burst out in a low, gruff laugh. “Talk to you later, Buck.”

 

***

**Barnes Toy Factory**

**Undisclosed Location**

 

Bucky took great pains to shower and clean off any traces of his few hours at the black site.

 

The underground warehouse was completely secured, extremely well-guarded, and a legitimate toy factory. On paper, it employed over 200 people – his Howling Commandos – and turned a reasonable profit each quarter, not enough to attract any attention, but definitely a company that was fiscally healthy. The warehouse stood empty; his Howling Commandos used it as a front, a place to go for eight hours of a regular work day, just like any other working stiff in Brooklyn.

 

On the lowest underground floor was the abattoir. Only a handful of Bucky’s people knew that it existed. Bucky could count on one hand the number of times he had to use it. It was reserved for his worst enemies; the very few who had tried to take Brooklyn away from him.

 

It had taken Bucky 21 hours to get Steve back; Rumlow and Rollins would be kept alive for 21 days. He would allow them the peace of death but only after they experienced firsthand the kind of exquisite pain he knew how to dole out.

 

Every few days, he would leave Steve at his beach house, and he would meet Natasha at the toy factory. They would spend just a couple of hours with Rumlow and Rollins, the echo of their screams seared into the steel and cement walls.   

 

Afterwards, he would leave the broken men in their small, empty cells, carefully guarded by Bucky’s security teams. They were left naked in the warm room, well fed and cared for, the medic checking their vitals every few days. Bucky didn’t spare any expense to keep them alive and healthy; no small detail was overlooked; no opportunity for them to commit suicide.

 

Carefully, Bucky cleaned himself in the open shower by the abattoir. He would dress in a set of identical, clean clothes, and return to Steve’s side, keeping him company on slow walks along the shore.

 

***

**Barnes Mansion**

**Squabble Lane**

**Southampton, Long Island**

 

He watched as Steve tucked his hands into his loose khaki pants, slender shoulders pulled down and hunched over. His dark blond hair was getting too long and shaggy, bangs going into his eyes. Steve startled easily and Bucky and the boys made sure to make enough noise to announce their presence whenever they walked into a room. They took great pains to never stand behind Steve, always approaching him from Steve’s line of sight.

 

_On the good days, when Steve saw Bucky, he’d smile and start a conversation about whatever interesting bit of news Steve read in the paper that day. Bucky held on to the good days, answering Steve’s questions about the Barnes Mansion, enjoying the playful side of Steve as he joked and teased Bucky about not letting Steve see his home._

_On the bad days, Steve wouldn’t get out of bed and Bucky would sit beside him, stroking his back, telling his best stories about Gabe or Morita or Dum Dum or Monty or Dernier – he’d never run out of stories about the boys – and they would both quietly ignore the tears that ran down the side of Steve’s face._

_On the worst days, Steve woke up screaming and crying out, falling out of the bed, delirious and still caught in his living nightmares. Bucky crawled to him, held him tightly, telling Steve that he was safe, that he was with Bucky and the boys, that they got to him. On the worst days, Steve’s emotions were raw and debilitating, falling into an abyss of shame and guilt and anger, taking it out on anyone who was near. Bucky bore the brunt of it; the monster inside of him caged by Steve’s vicious words._

 

“I really love it here. It’s peaceful and beautiful. I feel safe here.”

 

Bucky smiled. “I’m glad.”

 

“But I think I’m ready to go home, Buck,” Steve said, keeping his chin tucked against his chest, blue eyes sliding to the side to look at Bucky for his reaction.

 

_During the first few days of Steve’s recovery at the house, Morita called for Bucky to come down to the office to talk to Sam Wilson. It was a conversation that was long overdue between them and Bucky knew what Sam would say._

_“He nearly died because of you.”_

_Bucky narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t deny it._

_“You’re the worst thing to ever happen to him,” Sam hissed, frowning deeply. “Everything that happened to him is your fault. They took him, tortured him, because of you.”_

_“Wilson, watch the tone,” Tim said, low and dangerous._

_“Don’t tell me to watch my tone,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Barnes knows that what I’m saying is the truth.”_

_“We took care of it,” Bucky said, keeping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “HYDRA can never—“_

_“And who’s next? What other enemies do you have gunning for you? Fisk? Stark? The Feds? Who’s going to come after you next and take Steve to make a statement? How many times is that going to happen until he’s dead! Fuck HYDRA. If it’s not those assholes, it’ll just be someone else coming for Steve,” Sam told him, making a face. “Are you so fucking deluded that you can’t see that Steve will never be safe if he’s with you?”_

_“Sam! The fuck, man!” Gabe shouted, getting to his feet._

_Bucky held out his hand to Gabe, keeping him from interfering. He needed Sam to finish what he needed to say to Bucky._

_“The only way to make sure that Steve is safe is to just let him go,” Sam said, looking at Bucky. “He doesn’t belong in your life. He’s going to live the rest of his life as collateral damage because of you. If you care for him – if you love him – then you have to do the right thing and let Steve go.”_

_Bucky met Sam’s eyes and took a long breath. There was nothing he said that was a lie; nothing that Bucky hadn’t already thought about as well._

_“Hey!” Steve shouted, walking into the room, staring at all of them._

_“What’re you doing up?” Bucky said, frowning. “You should be resting.”_

_Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not a complete invalid, but apparently, all of you think you can make my life decisions for me without ever asking me what I want.”_

_  
“Steve—“ Sam said, shaking his head._

_“No,” Steve said, holding up his hand. Bucky watched in admiration at the core of steel inside of him. His blue eyes were bright and sharp, narrowed as he stared at them. “Sam, I know you said those things because you care about me and you’re my best friend, but no one gets to dictate the terms of my relationship with Bucky except me and Bucky. I know, better than anyone, the risks of being with Bucky. But that’s my choice to make.” He glared at all of them, raising his eyebrows, waiting for acknowledgement from them. Slowly, they all nodded. “Come on, Sam, I’m glad to see you. Let’s go have some coffee in the kitchen and you can catch me up on what I’ve been missing at the Food Center.”_

_Bucky and the boys watched as Sam curled his arm protectively around Steve’s shoulders, both of them walking out of the room slowly and talking softly._

_He leaned against the edge of the desk as Tim let out a muffled chortle._

_“Goddamn,” he said, sending Bucky a small grin. “Hands down, Rogers scares the shit out of me.”_

 

“Yeah?” He said, looking at Steve. He kept his tone calm and casual, letting Steve know that he was listening.

 

“I’ve imposed on you and the boys long enough,” he said, shrugging. “I know…I know you have to take care of your business. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

 

“You’re more important to us than that.”

 

Steve turned and looked up at him, giving him a small smile. “I don’t want to be a burden. You and the guys took real good care of me and I’m never going to be able to thank you enough, but…I should get back to my place. I probably have a pile of work that I need to finish, if my clients haven’t already dropped me…”

 

Bucky wasn’t sure how to tell him that they’d already taken care of everything – that Steve’s rent was paid out for a year, that his clients understood why Steve wasn’t able to work on their projects, that Bucky didn’t want Steve to go. He was certain that Steve wasn’t a target anymore, but Bucky had bought out three residents’ leases and moved them to a better location so he could install his own men into Steve’s building to keep an eye on things.

 

He didn’t say anything and he heard Steve give a long sigh, stopping on the sand to look up at him.

 

“But you probably took care of all that.” It was accusatory; just a fact that Steve knew was the truth.

 

Bucky nodded, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to worry…about going back, if that was what you wanted.”

 

“Thank you, Buck, but I can take care of myself.”

 

Bucky reached out slowly and wrapped his hand over Steve’s shoulder. “I know, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

 

Steve smiled at him, a proper one that reached his eyes. “Okay…okay, Buck, but I have to live my life, too. I can’t hide here forever – I know that’s what I’ve been doing and you guys have all been real good to let me. But, I don’t want to be scared all the time.”

 

He took a deep breath and stared out at the blue-gray waters, clean white foam sliding onto the sand. Bucky knew that the time would come when Steve wanted to get back to his life; he had no right to try and stop him, even if he wanted to.

 

“I’m not doing so good, Bucky,” Steve admitted, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I jump at every little thing, I’m afraid of going anywhere by myself. I know I need help…you know, a counselor or something.”

 

“You know I’ll help you find the best doctors; anything that’ll help you feel safe again.”

 

Steve reached out slowly and took Bucky’s hand in his, holding tightly. “Thank you, Buck, for helping me, I’m going to need it.” He breathed out a low laugh. “Probably a lot of it.” Bucky watched as Steve’s smile faded and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He squeezed Steve’s hand and felt his throat tighten when Steve hesitated for just a second too long before squeezing his hand back. “Sam’s right…I can’t be part of your life. I love you; I know you love me, too. I’m sure of that.”

 

“I do love you,” Bucky said, looking at him.

 

“I can’t hide anymore. I need…I need to have control over my life again. And maybe when I’m feeling stronger and less scared out of my mind…I’ll ask for another chance with you,” Steve said, earnestly.

 

“But you need me to let you go,” Bucky said, seeing the sadness crawl across Steve’s face.

 

“Yeah,” he said, voice wet and choked. “Yeah, Buck, I need you to let me go because…because if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to leave on my own, okay?”

 

“Okay, Stevie.”  

 

He let out a soft, pained groan when Steve moved towards him, curling his arms around Steve’s back and neck, holding him close and savoring the feel of his warmth. He brushed a kiss to Steve’s head and pressed his cheek against his hair.   

 

Steve burrowed closer against Bucky and held onto him tightly. They stood there for a long time, just holding on to each other, taking every bit of comfort that they could before letting each other go. Bucky closed his eyes and breathed deeply, remembering the smell of him, the feel of him, feeling like he was screaming while freefalling through the ice.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART VII: REUNIONS**

 

**Six Months Later**

 

As clichéd as it was, it took time, and Steve was doing much better.

 

Sam helped him find a therapist and Steve attended his sessions with Dr. Janet van Dyne three times a week. Now, months later, he met with her once or twice a month, whenever he felt himself falling back into those early dark days. He went to physical therapy once a week and attended yoga classes at the local community center, bending his body into odd positions and learning how to breathe through the stretch. He and Sam continued to volunteer at the food center. He didn’t take on graphic design work as much since he was still a little scared of being out in the world, but he found himself sketching in his small notebook, whenever he felt the itch of fear trying to overtake him. It helped that he had a set schedule and routine in his life, allowing him to become accustomed to being independent again.

 

_“I was hiding, when I was with Bucky,” he admitted, rubbing his fingers against the fabric of his jeans. “I didn’t want to leave, but…”_

_“Were you more afraid of being alone or were you afraid of never being able to leave?” Dr. van Dyne said, looking at him._

_Steve took a deep breath. “Before all of that…happened, I was never afraid of leaving my apartment. I mean, I used to get into fights and that didn’t scare me, even though I was always getting my butt handed to me.”_

_He let out a soft chuckle and glanced up to see Dr. van Dyne grinning at him._

_“You didn’t answer my question, Steve.”_

_“I was more afraid that I wouldn’t be able to leave…and that Bucky would resent me and then hate me for being a clingy, scared burden,” he said, mulishly._

_“Is that how you see yourself, at this stage of your recovery, as a man who survived torture, who is a clingy, scared burden to others?”_

_“I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of everyone.”_

_“Then who is there to take care of you?”_

_Steve wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He shrugged, chewing on his thumbnail, and frowned down at the blue and red rug on the floor._

_“Why don’t you reflect on that and see if you can make some progress on answering that question for our next session.”_

 

Unsurprisingly, all of his bills were taken care of; he knew Bucky was behind it. Every two weeks, he received a grocery delivery that he hadn’t ordered. Once a month, a young man brought him three large bags and politely refused Steve’s attempts to give him a tip, the delivery from his favorite Thai restaurant that didn’t have a delivery service. It was a little maddening and it ate at his pride some, but Steve accepted the gestures for what they were.

 

_“He still following you around the city?” Sam said, taking a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as they sat on the park bench, looking out at the East River._

_“Yep,” he confirmed, licking the mayonnaise off the side of his hand, a small smile on his lips._

_“Creeper,” Sam muttered, sipping noisily through his straw at his soda._

_“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, chuckling slightly._

 

It had unnerved him the first few times he spotted Bucky watching him, but keeping his distance. Steve could feel the weight of Bucky’s eyes on him and he inevitably hunched his shoulders, eyes flicking around the street until he saw Bucky sitting in the back of a nondescript car, Pinky behind the wheel, the windows rolled down.

 

Bucky never made any attempt to talk to Steve; he never got out of the car to cross the street. Bucky was always there, watching.

 

At first, Steve huffed in annoyance, pulling the collar of his jacket up and walking quickly down the sidewalk to where he needed to go. But then, it made him feel safer, knowing that Bucky was out there, too.

 

So for the most part, Steve was doing okay.

 

_“You need to rejoin the normal world,” Sam insisted, sitting with him at their favorite neighborhood bar._

_“Hey, I left my apartment two days in a row this week, I’m rejoining the normal world,” Steve told him, giving him a mulish look._

 

Sam laughed, patting Steve’s back – and that was something that Steve was relearning as well, being touched by someone in a non-threatening way. At first, Steve couldn’t bear being touched, and New York was a bustling city where strangers brushed against each other, but he was being eased into _allowing_ touch. He trusted Sam not to hurt him, and Sam was good about knowing where the boundaries were, keeping his casual touches friendly, non-threatening, and only with what Steve was comfortable with.

 

_“I know a great girl, Peggy, she’s a supermodel and she’s got a sexy-as-hell Brit accent. I think you’ll like her; you should meet her, take her out to dinner,” Sam said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “’Course, she’s too good for the likes of you, Brooklyn, but she might throw you a bone.”_

_Steve laughed, not at all offended. He counted on Sam to keep bringing him into a “normal world.”_

_“All right, bring her around. I’ll be on my best behavior.”_

 

Peggy Carter was the kind of woman that Steve’s mother would’ve called a classy lady, and Steve liked her immediately. She was too gorgeous for the likes of Steve, but they shared the same kind of self-determination and saw the best worth in each other. He was attracted to her, and strangely enough, she seemed to be attracted to him. She didn’t look down at him, she didn’t care that he was a scrawny guy a head shorter than her, and she really did genuinely… _like_ him.

 

_“I mean, really? But why?”_

_Peggy smiled at him from across the booth table. “Because you see me as more than just a face; and I see that you’re one of the best men that I know.”_

_That night, as he was walking her back to her place, he felt like he was a hundred feet tall. Steve walked her to her apartment complex and was surprised by the soft kiss she gave him, warmed by her lips._

_“Would you like to come up for a drink?”_

_Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “Pegs, I…would love to but…”_

_“You’re just not that kind of boy?” She teased, grinning at him._

_“Oh no, I’m completely that kind of boy,” he said, sassily. “Don’t let this package fool you; I’m the kind of boy your ma probably warned you about.”_

_Peggy chuckled. “Are you now?”_

_“Right at you, Carter.” But he let out a deep breath and smiled. “But I’m not ready yet to be that kind of boy.”_

_Peggy gave him a long and considering look. She smiled and kissed his cheek this time. “Call me later, we’ll go dancing.”_

_“Dancing, sure, sure. Dancing? Hey, wait a sec, is this a test?” He called after her, watching her stroll towards the doors to her apartment building._

_“It’s just a date, Steve,” she said, waving her hand at him and then disappearing into her building._

 

***

 

_“Six dates, huh?” Sam said, looking at Steve with something akin to pride in his brown eyes._

_“I’m not leading her on or anything,” he said, shrugging. “She’s a great woman and I like her a lot.”_

_“But…”_

_Steve snorted. “Why is there a ‘but’?”_

_“Because I can hear one, so spill.”_

_“I like her a lot **but** …I’m still hung up on Bucky, okay?” _

_Sam nodded. “As long as you know.”_

_He cocked his head and regarded his friend. “What do you mean?”_

_“You know; don’t play dumb with me, Steve.”_

 

Steve sighed and looked away. He did know; he could fall in love with Peggy, make a good life with her. He was fairly certain he could make her happy. But it felt like he was cheating on Bucky and that made him feel angry and resentful, which in turn made him feel ashamed and dejected. It was an ugly emotional cycle, and according to Dr. van Dyne, not unexpected after what happened between Bucky and him.

 

_“You haven’t closed that door to your past,” she said, wisely._

_“Are you talking about closure?” He said, frowning. “We broke up, that’s pretty much a closed door.”_

_“You said that you asked him to let you go because you couldn’t walk away on your own. How is that a break up?” She said, calmly. “He still follows you around the city; he’s paying for your bills – he’s paying for our sessions together.”_

_Steve frowned. “Are you – do you talk to him about me?”_

_“Of course not. He’s never reached out to me in any way. Even if he did, I wouldn’t break the confidence of our sessions for him or for anyone else. I merely receive a personal check with his signature on it.”_

 

_He sighed, running both of his hands over his head. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Accepted,” she said, smiling warmly at him. “Tell me about Peggy.”_

 

***

 

It was a familiar sight to see Steve, Sam and Peggy hanging out together at their favorite hotspots in Brooklyn. Through Peggy, Sam met Maria Hill, a freelance photographer who was making a name for herself through the fashion world for her beautiful and innovative pictorial layouts. Steve admired Maria’s work and his inner artist was inspired by her creativity, her photographer’s eye was intensely human and altogether too knowing. Steve carefully cut out and framed the magazine pictures of Peggy that Maria shot, proudly displaying them on his walls.

 

But the best part of meeting Maria was Sam’s complete inability to be chill around her. Quite frankly, Steve found Maria intimidating as she had an air of absolute-no-bullshit and she was fond of calling Sam out on his total lack of chill.

 

Steve and Peggy sat together on Sam’s couch, eating popcorn, unable to stop watching the hilariously romantic train wreck that was Sam Wilson.  

 

Sam leaned his elbow on the fireplace mantle, trying desperately to be cool and trying desperately to hide his awkwardness, while chatting up Maria. He totally misjudged the distance to the mantle and nearly fell into the fireplace; Maria had to catch him by the arm to right him up. Sam laughed, too loudly, and Maria just gave a cool smile, her eyebrow arched as she regarded him.

 

“You think he’s going to finally suck it up and ask her out?”

 

Peggy smirked, dipping her hand into the popcorn bowl. “I’ll bet you twenty dollars that she’ll be the one to ask him out on a date.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Steve was never happy to lose money in his life.

 

***

 

Just beyond the edges of Steve’s life in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes watched, and waited.

 

***

 

Steve had a mixed bag of emotional highs and lows, but there were more good days than bad, and he was grateful for his friends and his neighborhood. For all the years that the Rogers family did their best to take care of their own, Steve was discovering that the neighborhood was waiting for the day that they could take care of him, too. They closed in around him, protective and possessive, ensuring that Steve Rogers, self-appointed community activist and advocate, had a place that he felt safe and at home.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Steve to venture out into his city and be greeted by the people of his neighborhood; people looking out for his welfare as he tried his best to keep his chin up, a smile on his face. Storeowners stepped out onto the sidewalk to shake his hand, to give him a bag of fresh fruit, to ask how he was doing. He wasn’t sure what people knew of what happened to him, but the constant press of compassion from his neighbors was welcomed. Steve continued to offer to help with any problems in the neighborhood, like the old days, and found that someone else had taken up the slack while he was recovering.  

 

_“No one knows his name, but the dude is like a ninja or something; he shows up, takes care of business, and he’s gone in the night,” Sam confirmed, when Steve asked him about this new neighborhood protector._

_“Do you think he’s a real good guy or if he’s got an agenda?”_

_Sam frowned at him. “Don’t go sticking your nose into it, Rogers, we’ll keep an eye on him.”_

 

Steve didn’t need to ask about the “we” in that statement; Sam didn’t explicitly say anything to Steve, but Steve was smart enough to connect the dots through the neighborhood grapevine and put together that Sam and the Howling Commando boys must be the ones keeping Brooklyn safe, cleaning up any holdover HYDRA gang members in the city.

 

***

 

Tired of being stuck inside his apartment, Steve grabbed his messenger bag and his wallet, and headed out into the city. It was rare for him to deviate from his usual schedule, but cabin fever drove him out into the Brooklyn sunshine.

 

He sat outside the Brooklyn Museum and smiled, his hands trembling a little, overcome with a sense of accomplishment. He chided himself gently at how stupid it was to feel so proud of such a small thing, but understood that it really was a big thing, that every day he took control over his sense of independence was a major step forward in his recovery. He pulled out his phone and texted Sam and Peggy.

 

_srogers: At Brooklyn Museum, beautiful day for a walk._

_swilson: That’s awesome! Enjoy the day._

_pcarter: Maria says that there’s a photo exhibit of Coney Island through the years._

_srogers: Saw it, loved it; hey, maybe we can all go to Coney this weekend?_

_swilson: Yes!_

_pcarter: Yes! Maria also says yes!_

 

Steve chuckled, tucking his legs under him on the cement steps in front of the museum. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head back to feel the warmth of the sun. It felt like a triumph and Dr. van Dyne advised Steve to celebrate each milestone joyfully.

 

He opened his eyes and swiped his thumb across the screen, finding Bucky’s name in his contacts.

 

_srogers: Went to Brooklyn Museum alone. It’s a good day._

 

He wasn’t expecting Bucky to respond and was tucking his phone into his pocket when it made a soft chime, alerting him of a new message.

 

_bbarnes: I’m glad. So proud of you Stevie. Miss your face._

 

Steve smiled and sucked on his bottom lip, reading and re-reading Bucky’s response. Strange, how a few words from Bucky made Steve feel more confident.

 

_srogers: Thanks. Talk to you later. Miss you too._

_***_

 

It was like any other night; Steve was walking to his Clinton Avenue apartment when he heard the sound of a muffled groan coming from the alleyway. He paused, hand gripping tightly around the strap of his messenger bag, and stepped back into the mouth of the alleyway, peering down the narrow street. He saw two men, burly in size, with a smaller man between them.

 

With his heart racing, Steve looked around the empty street, and then took a tentative step into the alley.

 

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” He shouted, keeping his voice firm and loud.

 

It caught the attention of the three people, all of them turning to look at him.

 

“He has a knife!” The smaller man cried out, whimpering when he was jerked back against the other man.

 

“Mind your own damn business!” One of the men shouted back. “Just keep walking, bitch!”

 

Steve frowned, his temper igniting, and he walked closer towards them. “I’m going to call the cops if you don’t let him go!”

 

He held his phone in his hand, ready to make the call.

 

“Fucking nosy little pipsqueak,” the other man said, gripping his hand around the neck of a young looking man. He motioned to his partner in crime. “Take care of him.”

 

The other man chuckled, meanly. “Yeah, I get one of my own to play with.”

 

Steve pulled the strap of his messenger bag off and stared up at the man approaching him. “Don’t touch me.”

 

“Yeah, feisty little shit, aren’t you?”

 

He swung low, getting the man between his legs.

 

“Oh! You little fucker!” The man shouted, falling to his knees.

 

Steve swung his bag again, hitting him in the face, but the man reached up and grabbed Steve by the front of his hoodie, pushing him against the brick wall. He turned and landed hard against his shoulder, but managed to not let his head collide against the wall. Breathless, Steve gripped his bag strap tighter and turned to keep fighting.

 

“I’m going to kill you— _ahhhhh_!” The man broke off with a high-pitched scream, falling to the ground. “Fuck! Fuck, help me!”

 

Steve rubbed at his sore shoulder, frowning as he watched the other man grab for his lower leg.

 

“Is that an arrow?” He said, confusedly. Where did that come from?

 

“Holy shit!”

 

Three people rappelled down from the top of the three-story building, landing firmly on their feet. Steve watched as they quickly unarmed the man, knocking him to the ground. A woman with dark red hair placed her boot against his neck, keeping him down.

 

“Are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?” She asked, looking at the young man, who was kneeling on the ground and staring up at her in awe.

 

“I think he cut me a little,” the young man said, holding his hand against his neck. He didn’t seem to care as he stared up at the redhead. “You are so fucking badass.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, politely.

 

Steve was rather in awe himself.

 

“You fucking shot me! You shot me with a fucking arrow!” The man screamed, staring up at the other man who held what looked like a professional bow in his hand.

 

“You’re lucky I only got you in the leg, asswipe,” the man said, snickering lowly to himself. He turned to the other man, his long hair shadowing his face. “Buck, I do believe that urban hunting is my new favorite sport.”

 

“Bucky?” Steve said, dropping his bag and looking at the man with the long hair.

 

“I swear to god, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice low and complaining. “You’re going to drive me into an early grave.”

 

“What should we do with these two numb nuts?”

 

“Let’s take them back to the toy factory,” the woman said, her voice sly and tinged with amusement.

 

“Toy factory?” Steve said, frowning. “What’s at—“

 

“We can show them what real torture feels like,” she added, smiling wickedly down at the man under her boot. He struggled, grabbing for her ankle and trying to push her off. She only laughed and stepped down even harder. “Don’t fight, baby, it just makes me want to hurt you more.”

 

“No! Stop, just stop. Please,” Steve said, shaking his head. “We’ll call the cops and let them take care of it.”

 

The woman sighed, digging the heel of her boot into the man’s neck. “Awww, James, are you going to let him take away all my fun?”

 

“Call it in, Natasha,” Bucky told her, softly. “We’ll wait for the police to arrive.”

 

“What the hell are we going to tell them? _‘Yes, officer, we were just hunting bad guys and caught them trying to hurt two people; so of course I had to shoot one in the leg with my bow and arrow.’_ Yeah, that’s going to go over real well, Buck.”

 

“Call Detective Coulson at Brooklyn PD,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “He’ll take care of this.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, call Phil,” the man with the bow said, cheerfully. “Nat, call him! He’s my favorite—“

 

“I didn’t do nothing!” The man with the arrow in his leg shouted.

 

“Shut up,” the man and the woman said together, then looked at each other and laughed. “Jinx!”

 

Steve opened his mouth and blinked. “What’s going on?”

 

Bucky walked closer towards Steve, his hands held out by his side. “Steve, you all right? They hurt you?”

 

“Probably just going to bruise,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and taking a deep breath. “What’s going on, Bucky? Who are they?”

 

“That’s Natasha, the one with the bow is Clint. I guess you could say that they’re my backup,” he said, reaching down to pick up Steve’s messenger bag and handing it over to him. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the city while you’ve been recovering.”

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “Sam said that…are you the one protecting the neighborhood?”

 

Bucky grinned. “Just doing my part.”

 

Clint walked towards them, a big smile on his handsome face. He held out his hand to Steve. “Clint Barton. Boss talks about you a lot, says that you’re a standup guy. From what we saw, trying to help out that dude all on your own, you’re all right in my book.”

 

Steve shook his hand. “Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.”

 

“The killer there is Natasha Romanoff.”

 

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Rogers.”

 

Steve waved his hand stupidly. “Hi.”

 

Clint crossed his arms as he stood beside Bucky, the smile widening. “Damn, boss, when you said that Rogers here was a ball of trouble, you weren’t kidding, were you?”

 

Bucky smiled, looking at Steve fondly. “He’s my kind of trouble.”

 

“Fucking fag romance—“

 

Clint kicked the man on the ground in the ribs, the sound of them cracking was as loud as his scream, and Steve jumped, inhaling sharply.

 

“Come on, let me walk you home,” Bucky said, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. He looked at Clint and Natasha. “You two take care of this and I’ll meet you back at HQ.”

 

“You got it, boss,” Clint said, winking at Steve. “Hey, we should all get some food later, okay?”

 

Steve nodded, not knowing what else to do. “Okay.”

 

***

 

**483 Clinton Avenue**

 

 

They stopped at the 24-hour 7-11 by the corner of Steve’s street to buy late night snacks and sat in front of his apartment building, eating ice cream. It felt familiar, like old times.

 

“You need a haircut,” Steve said, looking at Bucky.

 

Despite the longer length, it suited him, made him look dangerous and animalistic. It made him look like a man who was capable of doing anything; capable of causing pain. Bucky had always taken care of his looks, his grooming and his tailoring always impeccable and clean. So to see him like this, wearing black work pants, heavy boots, and a dark colored jacket, he didn’t look like the head of the Barnes organization. It told Steve more about Bucky’s state of mind; it worried him, it made him feel guilty that as Steve was getting better, Bucky was…this.

 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, it’s getting kind of long, I guess.”

 

“Are you…are you doing okay?”

 

“Not particularly,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But I’m getting there.”

 

“By being Brooklyn’s newest vigilante?”

 

“Are you criticizing me, Stevie?”

 

Steve smiled and shook his head. “When Sam said that there was someone taking care of the neighborhood, I—I thought it might be you.” He let out a short laugh. “But I didn’t think that _this_ was what you were doing.”

 

Bucky didn’t say anything; they ate their ice cream in silence. That felt familiar, too, and Steve didn’t mind the silence between them.

 

“I just want to say thank you,” Steve murmured, turning to look at Bucky.

 

“You don’t have to—“

 

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, reaching out to hold Bucky’s hand, squeezing his cold fingers tightly. “Thank you, for taking care of me, for looking out for me, for a lot of things. You helped me get better.”

 

Bucky gripped his hand and stared straight ahead. “I want you to get better; get your life back.”

 

Steve licked his lips and grinned. “I’m working on it; and you know, I realized something, part of getting my life back is…you’re part of my life, Buck. I mean, all the stuff that happened, I don’t blame you. I don’t know if I ever told you that and I’m sorry if I never said it. I don’t blame you for what happened to me.” He cocked his head, trying to catch Bucky’s attention. “Do you—do you blame yourself for what happened to me?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, inhaling deeply.

 

“Okay,” Steve said, nodding. “You’re going to have to work through that, in your own time, I guess. But I just want you to know that I don’t blame you.” He scooted closer to Bucky and smiled when Bucky turned to look at him, blue-gray eyes focused on him. Bucky was always an intense person, but the way that he looked at Steve seemed sharper. “You once said that if I wanted to be with you, it had to be to the end of the line, right? Because of who you are and because you couldn’t accept anything less from me. Well, I’m with you, Buck, all the way to the end. And this isn’t the end, is it? It doesn’t feel like the end to me.”

 

Bucky reached out slowly and stroked Steve’s face. “What’s it feel like then?”

 

“Maybe…maybe a new beginning?” He said, shrugging, feeling hopeful and nervous and happy. “Maybe a second chance? I really hope so, Bucky.”

 

Bucky leaned close, hesitant, not wanting to spook Steve or scare him off, and Steve felt Bucky’s warm breath across his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned the rest of the way, pressing his lips chastely against Bucky’s mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, smiling against Steve’s lips. “A second chance.”

 

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: There’s actually one more chapter after this, a second epilogue, a time jump into the future and maybe a sexytimes scene between the boys.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The happiest ending ever!

**A Year into the Future**

 

 

There were some mornings when Steve jerked awake out of a nightmare, whatever that had startled him fading too quickly for his waking mind to hold onto – it was probably better for him that he couldn’t remember his nightmares. He had a good idea of what his dreaming mind was working through anyway.

 

It only happened a few times, mostly when Steve was stressed, or on nights when Bucky spent long hours running the Barnes organization, and always on nights when Bucky, Natasha, and Clint would go out into the evening, pursuing the **real** bad guys who threatened their community. On those nights, Steve didn’t even bother to try and sleep, rather he stayed up to wait for Bucky, a fresh pot of coffee percolating, and Steve worked on his paintings.

 

Some mornings, no matter how much Steve tried to stay awake, he’d pass out leaning against the counter, face buried in the curve of his arms, the coffee gone cold in his mug, and Bucky picking him up and carrying him into their bedroom.

 

_“I ain’t a baby, Buck,” Steve complained, sleepily._

_“You’re light as a feather,” Bucky said, softly._

 

Steve was a morning person and had always been an early riser. He would wake up, hit the alarm, and jump right of bed to start his day.

 

_“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bucky said with a low groan, tugging the covers and blankets over his head. “How come I didn’t know this about you? Christ, Stevie, it’s only 6 in the morning!”_

_“How did you get to be head of a criminal organization sleeping in all the time anyhow?”_

_Bucky pushed one hand from under the covers and gave him the finger. “Punk,” he muttered under the sheets. “It’s called delegation. Look it up and come back to bed, my feet are cold.”_

_Steve snickered. “You look it up. Jerk.”_

 

But on the nights when Bucky came home from patrolling the city, he and Steve would curl around each other and sleep in late. It was Steve’s favorite moment of his day.

 

It took some time, for both of them, to get used to sharing a bed with each other.

 

_“I like this one.”_

_“It’s $8,000, Bucky, don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?”_

_“No, it’s perfect.”_

_Steve turned his head and looked at Bucky. “Well, it’s kinda big.”_

_“Awww, baby, you wanna cuddle with me?”_

_“Why do we need a custom ultra-king sized bed?”_

_“Think of all the rolling around in the sheets we can do, Stevie,” Bucky said, smirking when Steve bit his bottom lip and blushed. He could imagine all the things that they could do in a bed this size._

_Bucky gave a dirty laugh, reaching his hand across the wide expanse of the mattress. Steve had to scoot closer to him in order to stretch out his arm to hold Bucky’s hand._

_“Let’s get it.”_

_“Seriously, we could fit all of the Howling Commandos on this bed and still have room.”_

 

But Steve loved the annoying tickle of Bucky’s soft bangs against the back of his neck. He loved the too-sweaty press of Bucky’s body against his; the way Bucky’s arm tightened, even in his sleep, if Steve tried to wiggle away.

 

_“Quit it, I’m comfy.”_

_“I gotta take a leak, Buck.”_

_Bucky chuckled, darkly. “Go ahead.”_

_Steve tried to slip out from under Bucky’s arm, his morning bladder nearly bursting with pressure. “Come on, Bucky, I gotta go!”_

_“No, stay, warm.”_

_“I’m gonna piss all over you.”_

_“Kinky.”_

 

He loved the way Bucky would roll across their custom-made bed, sprawling out all over Steve’s side, nearly pushing him off the edge.

 

_“Shove over,” Steve said, elbowing Bucky off of him. “How the hell do we have a bed this big and you’re always on my side of it?”_

_Bucky laughed into Steve’s pillow. “I like your side of the bed better.”_

_“Then we can switch.”_

_“And I’ll still like your side better, Stevie.”_

 

He loved the hilariously adorable snuffling snore that Bucky breathed against his ear.

 

_“You snore like a baby.”_

_Bucky made a face. “You snore like a fucking chainsaw.”_

_“I wonder how scared your enemies would be if they knew that you snore like a baby,” Steve said, snickering._

 

Most of all, Steve loved waking up first so he could look his fill of Bucky, vulnerable and open, his handsome face slack in sleep. He knew that only a handful of people had ever seen Bucky like this. In the last year, through Steve’s recovery and Bucky’s recovery, they had committed to each other, had screaming bad fights with each other, and had found a way to build that second chance into something stable and steady.

 

_“Hey, Stevie, wanna come with me?”_

_“Sure, where we going?”_

_“Haircut.”_

_Steve looked up from the book he was reading, pulling off his black framed glasses. “Yeah? You sure?”_

_He watched as Bucky ran his hand over his head, his long hair tied back with a hair band. He gave Steve a look of uncertainty, eyebrows furrowed as he smiled._

_“Hey, you don’t have to do it for me, you know?” He said, worriedly._

_Bucky gave him a shit-eating grin. “Don’t get all full of yourself, punk, it’s not for you.”_

_Steve narrowed his eyes and stared at him._

_“All right, it’s not **just** for you,” he said, smiling at Steve. “I thought that it was time.” _

_Steve dropped his glasses into his book to save his place and he got up and curled his arms behind Bucky’s neck, kissing him. “You know I’ll love your ugly mug with long hair or not.”_

_Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled the hair band off, shaking out his long hair. He tugged Steve closer and leered at him as he dropped to his knees. “I’ll let you tug on my hair one more time before we got to the barber.”_

 

Bucky was sprawled out on his back, the arm closest to Steve flung over his head on the pillow, snuffle-snoring softly, deep in sleep. Steve grinned, moving up on his elbow, gently carding his fingers through Bucky’s short hair, clean of any product.

 

He watched as Bucky’s eyes moved under his eyelids, his mouth open. Steve traced his bottom lip with the tip of his finger, pulling his hand away quickly when Bucky made a little noise and then licked his lips.

 

Stifling his giggle, he carefully pulled the sheets down, uncovering Bucky’s chest. They were both naked from their activities the night before and Steve slid the palm of his hand down the center of Bucky’s chest, the pad of his thumb circling one of his nipples and feeling it harden. Steve tucked his face into Bucky’s armpit, keeping an eye on Bucky’s face, and licked slowly through the sparse bit of hair, tasting skin and a bit of last night’s sweat. He gently pinched the nipple between his thumb and index finger and grinned when Bucky inhaled deeply, a low rumble of dream-deep pleasure echoing in his chest.

 

Even in his sleep, Bucky pulled his arm down and curled it over Steve’s back, his large hand warming Steve’s skin.

 

Steve smiled and tugged the sheet down even lower, revealing the smooth, hard lines of Bucky’s abs, the cut of his hips, the patch of dark hair, and his cock laying on his lower belly. The friction from the soft sheet and Steve pinching his nipple had definitely gotten Bucky’s attention, even in his dream state. The pale pink head had pushed out from his foreskin, already a little hard with his morning wood, and Steve decided that he was going to wake Bucky in the best way.

 

He leaned carefully over Bucky’s lower body and turned his head, taking in the head of Bucky’s cock. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s face as he slid his tongue under the foreskin and around the head, feeling him harden a little more inside of his mouth.

 

Bucky made an inquisitive sound, mixed in with a soft moan, and his hips shifted against the mattress. Steve took it as a sign to continue and he sucked gently on the tip, getting it nice and wet with a slow swirl of his tongue. Bucky tasted a little bitter and he smelled warm and musky; Steve closed his eyes for a moment to savor the feel of Bucky in his mouth, letting out a little sigh through his nose.

 

He heard Bucky groan and Steve opened his eyes to see Bucky watching him.

 

“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, his hand curling over Steve’s hip.

 

Steve pulled slowly off of Bucky’s hard cock and grinned innocently up at Bucky. “Good morning.”

 

“Keep going,” Bucky urged, his hips tilting closer to Steve’s face. “It’s not going to take a lot to finish me off, baby. _Please_.”

 

How could he refuse when Bucky asked so nicely? Steve slid his mouth over the head, wrapping his right hand around the base of Bucky’s cock, and stroked his hand up and down his length as Steve sucked hard, finding an easy rhythm that was all about getting Bucky to come. Bucky’s fingers dug into Steve’s skin, hips thrusting jerkily under him, and moaned throatily when Steve licked over the opening, slurping noisily at the pre-come.

 

Bucky reached up to press his other hand against the cushioned headboard, trying to leverage himself up so he could watch Steve’s mouth and hand working on his cock, spit dribbling out of the sides of Steve’s mouth as Bucky quickened his thrusts, a desperate sounding whine coming from his throat.

 

_“Steve…oh god…oh god…Steve, Stevie, yeah…oh…ohhh…oh baby I’m gonna—“_

 

Bucky fell back on the bed, his neck arched and head pressed into his pillows. Steve watched greedily, watched as pleasure came and crested across Bucky’s face – eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, face flushed – and Steve swallowed, flicking the tip of his tongue playfully over the opening as Bucky cried out and shuddered under him.

 

He pulled off and wiped his mouth against Bucky’s thigh and grinned as Bucky reached for him.

 

“Come up here,” Bucky murmured, pulling Steve up and curling his arm behind Steve’s neck, kissing him deeply, his tongue exploring Steve’s mouth, taking the taste of him back into his mouth. It was sour and salty and a little gross, but Steve wouldn’t have it any other way. “Let me help you out, baby.”

 

Steve chuckled, looking at Bucky’s sultry expression. “How about you help me out in the shower instead?”

 

“ _Mmmmm_ …you always have the best ideas,” he said, hugging Steve close, tucking Steve’s head under his chin.

 

“Are you going back to sleep?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Bucky let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

 

Steve poked his side. “Hey, what happened to helping me out in the shower?”

 

“I’m gonna do it, I promise. Just let me enjoy the afterglow for one hot second, okay?”

 

He laughed, curling into Bucky’s warmth.

 

“Punk,” Bucky murmured, kissing the top of Steve’s head. “Waking me up with a goddamn sexy blowjob and then expecting me to get my ass up to do you in the shower.”

 

Steve couldn’t help it, he snickered, pressing his lips against Bucky’s shoulder.

 

He could wait a few more minutes.

 

He wasn’t in any hurry.

 

He wasn’t going anywhere; he was where he wanted to be.

 

 

THE END.


End file.
